Mello's Life
by HoshisamaValmor
Summary: A fic that'll feature Mello's life from childhood to death. Main characters involved are Mello, Near, L, Rod Ross & Mafia, Halle, Matt and Takada *Kira in general implied*.
1. Mihael Keehl

**CHAPTER 1:**

**MIHAEL KEEHL**

_Author's Note:_ This will be a fic about Mello's life, from childhood to death, and from Mello's POV. It'll feature the main characters in Mello's life, being Near, L, Rod Ross & Mafia, Halle, Matt, and finally the bitch that kills him, Takada (with Kira in general represented).

Each chapter can be read as one-shots, since there is no literal connection between them - they just follow the years.

This first chapter is clearly an introduction one, with a 5-year-old Mello and how he entered Wammy's House.

Warning: A LOT of description and FEW dialogue.

**Update:** Corrected all the typos and grammar mistakes I could find.

**DISCLAIMER:** Fanfiction is done by fans such as I am, so no, I own absolutely nothing regarding Death Note, to my great regret.

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_December, 1994_

Mihael Keehl.

Born in December 13th, 1989. Blood type A. Mother and father deceased in car accident along with younger brother. Single survivor.

Mihael Keehl a.k.a. Mello. Now he was Mello. In that orphanage institution, called Wammy's House, that wasn't even near his birthplace. It was in an island called England.

He couldn't remember things clearly, since it had all been so fast. His parents arguing and shouting about something, as they always did, in the front seats of the car. His baby brother crying and yelling in the back seat next to him. Himself desiring a bit of silence among all those screams.

The streets they past by were all desert, filled with the Christmas brightly lights. It was pretty peaceful, snow was falling, and the other families were at their homes enjoying the Christmas day as anyone but them would do.

Outside was silent, but inside, it was only screams and noise. And then the noise only got worse, when a big thing crushed against their car all of a sudden. It had been so scary, because he got hurt, there was screams of pain all around him, he remember he was bleeding and that his body hurt a lot and that he felt very cold for the snow on the floor, but everything finally fell silent for a while. He thought for a moment that he was dead, but dead people couldn't feel pain nor cold as he did.

Then noise returned when the ambulances and the police showed up, and he was discovered covered in blood, but fortunately only with his arm and head broken. All he could hear about his family was that he was the "sole survivor". That must have meant they were dead. All of them? So he was alone?

He couldn't even remember if it was in the precise crash scene or in the hospital or somewhere else that he came, that kind old man with a funny white mustache and who spoke with a funny accent. He said his name, but the only thing Mihael memorized was 'Watari'.

And so, there he was. United Kingdom, England, Winchester, Wammy's House. It was snowing there as well.

A big frightening gate, cross-shaped in the top, a big field, a big mansion and a big church-like room, full of painted glass. The place resembled a church or a catholic institution in many ways, he thought. He had seen churches, so he knew how they were like. But it wasn't really a church, it was that kind-of-catholic-orphanage with a lot of children with all colors and ages and nationalities. And they all called him Mello. The old man Watari told him to introduce himself as Mello instead of Mihael. Was it because it was a Slovenian name? He couldn't even speak English - what kind of foreign child would know how to speak English at age 5? - and he felt really scared because of that. He was alone in a strange place where he couldn't even understand what people said. If there was any other Slovenian, or Ukrainian or Polish, kids around there (the other languages he could understand a little), he couldn't seem to find them. Watari seemed to be the only one who spoke his language, and though he was with him in an office for a long time, he wouldn't be around to translate things for him.

Besides, he had his blond head bandaged, as well as his arm, so everyone stared at him. Still, they all seemed nice with their unknown words to him, and seemed quite welcoming, with a typical very lively Christmas spirit in their voices. The adult people only, though; the children basically looked at him without many words.

He was given a bed in one of the boys' dormitories, and a little desk to store his things (he didn't had any clothes besides the ones he carried, but Watari assured he would receive new ones). The dormitories were very unlike his old bedroom, naturally. There were more than three different dormitories around the enormous orphanage, all displayed in the same way to both boys and girls: it was like a corridor which had various entrances from both sides that led to rooms with six beds. The 'rooms' were separated by thin plastic-like walls, which had windows in them, so they didn't have enough privacy to be called real 'rooms'. They were like chambers with six beds and six small desks next to them, all linked to each other through the windows and the entrances that linked to a huge main corridor. So it really gave the inevitable look of an orphanage, instead of a fine hotel or country house.

The other children didn't seem to find those dormitories as strange as Mihael, since they were around there for a longer time than he was. And anyway, they were strange. Even if he might not understand their main language, he could see that they were strange. All of them were smart, all of them seemed to be able to speak more than five languages (except his own), and all of them had weird names. So he wasn't the only one whose name had been changed. Apparently, none of them kept their original name, and he later even heard about an older boy whose name was L; he guessed he was lucky then, since at least his new name had more than a single letter.

On the New Year's evening, Mihael was sitting on his new bed, alone. Because of the linked bed-chambers through the windows, there could be seen the lights of few other boys who were reading or studying, but Mihael had his lights off. He was simply staring at the dark floor, trying to ignore the loud noises outside from the celebrations while holding a rosary in his good hand. His beautiful and young face had such a deep expression that he seemed to be praying. But he was just thinking. Remembering.

The only thing he could remember clearly of the crash memories where his family died was the crucifix his parents used to hang in the car's mirror, and that he used to look at when they were arguing. And that was actually the only thing beside his body clothes that he had bring to Wammy's House; a rosary his mother had given him quite recently, that was amazingly kept intact through all the accident. Actually, it hadn't even been over a week since he received it, both a late birthday gift and an early Christmas one. He had always liked crucifixes, and although he hadn't really been catholic, neither his parents, his mother bought it to him. Even if it was too longer for a child to use, Mihael never took it off. Now, it was everything he had left as a memory of his mother and his father, and of his little brother as well. They might have not been the best parents in the world, but still, they were his family. And he didn't have anyone left anymore.

Suddenly, he felt a warm drop fall from his blue eyes. And another one. They reached his chin before he tried to dry them, but when he was going to do that, he noticed that a girl, a couple of years older than him, was staring next to the entrance to his bed-chamber.

"Hi," she said, with a tender but sad smile as she saw his tears.

Mihael knew that English word, and lifted his head to her. Though that was one of the boy's bedrooms, girls were allowed to enter during the day (and night, in that case).

"My name is Linda," she introduced herself. She didn't seem to wonder if he could fully understand her or not, so she continued. "You are... Mello, right?"

The blond boy stared at her for some seconds without any reaction. He thought he understood what the girl had said. That's right. He wasn't Mihael anymore, so he ought to stop calling himself that. He was Mello now.

"...Yes," he replied. He was able to memorize simple words like that.

"Why are you here alone?" Linda asked him kindly, and those words Mello couldn't comprehend. "Why are you crying?"

The child's empty yet questioning gaze might have been enough for Linda to see that he didn't understand her language, so she tried with another approach.

"You..." she pointed at Mello, "...want to see the fireworks..." she now imitated the explosion of a firework with her hands and made a similar sound as they did, pointing to the distant windows where the flashes of colorful lights appeared every now and then, "with me?"

That was clear enough to Mello, and though he wanted to remain there, in silence with his tears, something made him lift himself up and dry his tears, following the girl out of the boy's bedroom. They walked the corridors leading to the main hall where tons of children and adults were hanging, watching the fireworks show with happy and excited looks. Before Mello could notice, Linda had grab his good hand so they wouldn't get separated, and she guided him outside where could have a better perspective of the beautiful lights that exploded in the night sky, greeting the new year.

Mello's sadness vanished during the few minutes the show lasted, as if nothing had change dramatically in his life. He simply stared at those colorful explosions until they died out, and he then realized Linda was still holding his hand.

"Linda," he said simply, and the young girl seemed very happy that he remembered and could say her name.

"Mello," she said in return, with that kind smile of hers.

Nothing else was really said that night.

It was very clear that Linda was his first friend in Wammy's House, or at least, the very first person to talk to him like that, without any type of judging. That was why Mello always kept treating her nicely and kept smiling to her, even as he grew up and his aggressive personality developed.

**- End of Chapter 1 –**

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_Author's Notes:_ My ending SUCKS.

I wanted to describe how Wammy's dormitories were, because they are inspired in a real institution that I know. That place is a lot smaller than their orphanage, but whatever. I don't know how orphanages and institutions around other countries are, but one with this type of dorms was one I could see with my own eyes. I hope the description was clear enough for you to try to make a mind picture.

And yes, I think that the timeline I made for Death Note made it look like Mello and L might have been some time together in Wammy's House, if Mello was 5 when entering. Since they have 10 years of difference, that would place L at age of 15 - and since he says that he lived 5 years in England, the timeline may coincide. He was leaving the institute when Mello came in, more or less.

...And, I've always wondered why Linda, the real manga character, would draw Mello with a smile and Near with a lot more angrier expression, when it is supposed to be Mello the angry one. So I've always assumed that she had met him at the House, and she was probably treated nicely by him, therefore she saw him with a smile. Near doesn't smile that often, anyways.

This is my very first fic, and yes I know I suck at it, but I wanted to give it a shot.

I would be very grateful if you could review with good criticism. Thanks for reading.

If you want, continue to the next chapters. I promise there'll be more dialogue.


	2. Nate River

**CHAPTER 2:**

**NATE RIVER**

_Author's Note:_ I'm sorry I took so long to update, I was really fearing I had given up of my first attempt of a fanfic. I must have hit the score of "longer-time-taken-to-update". Besides, a major crush in my life showed up in the middle, and is still present. No real excuse can't be given I know, but anyways, thanks for all the people that reviewed, specially ChaosandMayhem. To tell the truth, I'm doubting any of the good souls who reviewed the last chapter will be interested in this update, but whatever. Getting comments on Youtube is FAR easier than getting reviews.

As the chapter titles says, this will show how Mello and Near met each other, and how their relationship ended up to be what is it.

**Update:** Corrected typos and grammar mistakes, and I really dislike this early part of the story now.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Death Note nor Mello.

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_September 5th, 2001, 10:02_

"You heard? There's a new boy around!"

Those (loud) whispers were bothering Mello a lot, and he signed at the little girls attitude. It weren't just them, though; the boys around were also whispering about the new kid, who ought to be pretty strange to create so much noise.

Mello was living in Wammy's House for nearly 7 years already, and he had grown up a lot, though he was still a bit short for a nearly-12-years-old boy, and had gained a rather androgynous appearance, with his slender figure wrapped in black clothes and his blond hair straightly brushed around his face and slightly curled in the bottom, resembling that of a girl's. He had learned English as fast as anyone could expect of a child, and had proven his intelligence over the other children of the orphanage, so he was pretty much the best of them. Still, he wasn't really loved by anyone there. The only people who seemed to care the least about him were Linda, the girl that had talked to him the first time he came to Wammy's, and perhaps Matt, a rather weird, red-haired younger boy addicted to video games whom he had met recently.

The reason why no one liked him very much wasn't a secret to him, though. Not even Roger Ruvie, the 'second in command' of Wammy's, liked him. Mello was arrogant and aggressive most of the time, and his cold blue eyes had that eternal glare touch to them that silently threatened every soul who might try to approach him. But all those attitudes were just something natural for him. People annoyed him a lot, so he replied them according to the way they made him feel. Roger tried to hide his dislike for him using the pretext of his traumatic childhood - which wasn't a very good criteria, since all children there had lost someone in their families. Maybe the best explanation to why Roger hid his dislike was simply because he was the second headmaster of the institution, so he wasn't supposed to show any preferences or lack of them among the children. The other kids wouldn't try to find reasons why they didn't like him. They simply didn't like his personality and pretty much avoided him.

Of course, it was also part of his personality that Mello couldn't care less about what other people said of him.

"So where is that new guy, anyways?" Mello finally asked when he couldn't focus on harming a kid's arm any longer with all the rambling.

"His name is Near, I think" one boy replied.

"That wasn't what I asked."

"Dunno, he hasn't really shown up yet, but who saw him, said that he was kinda weird."

"But cute!" a friend of the other girl added, ridiculously excited.

"He's been in Roger's office since pretty much he arrived," the first girl said. "Watari's around too, I think."

Mello released the kid he was trying to annoy, and stared at the girl after that statement. Watari was always with L around someplace else, he very rarely showed up in the orphanage. Actually, the last time Mello remembered Watari had come around and stayed over more than an one hour was when he himself arrived at Wammy's House. That would make it nearly 7 years now. Usually, Roger took care of all the paperwork and the quick presentations with the new children. Why would Watari be around as well?

"Well, he oughta appear in classes, right?" Mello said, regaining his composure.

"You're curious about him, eh, Mello?" one of the girls asked with a sarcastic smile, and Mello hated having such a pale skin at that moment, since the slightest heat in his face would make him blush. Still, was that so strange, to be curious about a new guy, especially when he had made Watari come to the orphanage?

"Yeah, I wanna see who the hell he is, if he's that important to make so much annoying whispering about him around."

"Who knows, maybe the new boy is smarter than you!" a black-haired boy teased, running away before Mello could catch him.

"As if that was possible," he cursed in a low voice, not wanting to tire himself running after the teasing kid.

Although the general curiosity about the new kid remained unchanged during the entire day, it was only in their last afternoon class they were finally able to see him, when he was introduced by their teacher.

The newbie boy _was_ indeed strange. He seemed a couple of years younger than Mello, which would make him around 9 or 10, and the word _'albino'_ would be very accurate to describe him. He had white skin, was dressed in white clothes, and even his hair was a white, pretty much unkempt mass, which he was always childishly curling a bit with the tip of his finger. Mello, who liked to brush his hair straight, found that a bit disturbing. Even his eyes, though dark, seemed blank. And besides, the kid had a cold look on his face, but the type of coldness like he was bored out of his mind, and that transmitted a kind of presumption and superiority to his figure. Something about him didn't allow Mello to like him very much at that very first sight. But then again, Mello liked almost no one.

"So, children, this is Near, our new colleague," the teacher presented, with a large smile on her face. "He is 10 years old, but he has jumped one year in school, so we'll be in our class. Please be nice to him, as I'm certain you will be, and in case he needs some help to check old subjects, please show him our work, all right?"

"That won't be necessary," the kid Near said, and even his voice seemed as white as he was; pale, blank. It had a soft tone to it though, that could make it sound as a girl's voice.

"Oh. Oh, very well then, please pick a seat, Near. Tomorrow we're going to make a test, do you think you would have problems making it?"

"I don't think so."

"All right then!" the teacher said cheerfully, after Near sat on the one of first row chairs, two rows in front of Mello. "Let's do some quick revisions on our subjects."

_September 12th, 2001_

One week after he arrived, Mello got his first and ultimate strong and reasonable proof why he _hated_ Near.

"Congratulations, Near! You got the best grade of the class, A+!"

Mello felt like his heart had fallen to his feet and crushed, just like in a cartoon motion. But it wasn't a cartoon, it was real life. When... did someone ever surpass him?

He didn't listen to another single word during the entire class. Everyone greeted Near for his good grade, unlike they _ever_ did to Mello, and it followed its normal rhythm, but Mello simply blocked. He held his 'A' grade firmly in his slightly shaking hand, chocked in his thoughts.

_Okay... let's be reasonable:_ anyone could have a slight descend on one's grades, which would allow another person to raise, right? But... he had never lost to anyone. Perhaps having lost once would be good to allow him to keep getting better. And anyways, losing once wasn't that much a deal, was it? But then, WHAT was that feeling of his? That... knot in his stomach that he had never felt before? And that inflamed heat in his chest that he had experienced way too many times before, but never - never this excruciating.

What the hell was that? And why was he feeling so bad just because of a single kid?

By the end of the class, fortunately, he had calmed his thoughts down and felt a lot better, though he feared something inside him had been damaged beyond repair by some reason, like a deep wound which might restart bleeding if anyone just mentioned it.

When leaving the room and walking through the corridors which his relaxed pace, Mello started thinking about that place. He had pretty much a nice reputation at Wammy's House that he had build over the years with (hard?) work. He was the closest mind to L's, with the best grades around, and was aggressive enough to not allow himself to be teased.

However, there still were some brave (or stupid) remaining souls that tried their chances to annoy him.

"You look like a girl, you know that?"

Mello's never-vanished glare returned, more keen than normal, and he stopped, turning to a group of kids nearby, some of them much older than him, while others were about his age.

"I mean it," the boy continued, one of the small ones, though Mello noticed, to his pleasure, that the kid's voice trembled a little after that cold glare he had so well practiced. "It's your hair. The way you brush your hair, it makes you look like... a girl..."

"You go to hell," Mello said simply, preparing to ignore them and return to his walk. Still, the kid had more comrades with the same pissing-off attitude.

A teacher passed nearby them, and as she felt the heavy atmosphere, she walked to them. Actually, a small amount of people had strangely gathered in the corridor, as if sensing the tension that had been created in less than 2 minutes.

"What's going on, kids?"

"Why do you do your hair like that, anyways?" one of the boys asked without hearing the teacher, an older and one with a sarcastic look that Mello hated so much on other people faces rather than his own. "So girly!"

Mello looked up at him with a freezing coldness. He hated taller people.

"I - do - my - hair," he spelled slowly to allow those retarded to understand the words clearly, approaching him in the same pace. "- the - way - I - want - TO!"

And he expertly kicked the tall boy on a knee, forcing him to fall with a painful grunt.

"H-hey!" the other boys shouted, but no one dared to counter-attack Mello, who glanced at them in a really dangerous and murderous way.

"Mello!" the teacher gasped, checking the whimpering boy.

"You just got owned by a _'girl'_." Mello spit to the injured guy, and turned his back to them.

"Mello! Stay here! You can't hit people!" the teacher tried to order, but Mello ignored her.

"He mocked me."

"But you can't hit people! You have to be nice!"

Damn, he was so tired to have to hear people saying those things to him. That he had to 'behave', to be 'nice'. Yeah sure. People treated him badly, he treated them worse. One of life's little rules.

And why the hell would he look like a girl? He didn't seem a girl to his eyes, he thought. He knew he was somewhat androgynous, but didn't _look_ like a girl. He liked his hair a lot. Screw the other people that thought otherwise.

"If he seems like a girl, I assume I do, too," a voice echoed behind the group of boys before Mello was able to leave, and an unkempt white hair appeared. "Or at least my voice seems that of a girl."

It has that new boy, that Near. Mello's inner wound seemed to have twisted painfully.

"No you don't!" someone defended.

"You're different," the boys who previously mocked Mello added, and Mello replied immediately, turning to the group again.

"Why's he different? Because he's new here? And why did you interfere in the first place, anyways? Mind your own damn business." he cursed.

"I was just giving my opinion." the Near boy said, with his rather bored look and calm tone, despite Mello's angry one. "You know, you let your emotions take control of you very fast."

"Shut the fuck up." Mello ordered, though he feared he had blushed. Who did that kid think he was, saying that kind of things to him? He was older than him, and smarter.

"Mello!" the teacher gasped once more and a series of girls childishly covered their opened mouths with their hands, though most of them were already used to Mello's swearing.

Near raised one eyebrow (or he at least he made that movement, since he had no visible eyebrows).

"Where did you learn that word from?" he wondered, and that only made Mello wish to say more of those.

"Don't talk to Near like that, Mello," an orange-haired girl from his class intervene.

"I speak with anyone the way I want to."

"Yeah, but he's pretty cleaver as well, so you can't talk that way using those bad words."

"What? What do you mean with that?"

"Well, you are like-minded, aren't you?" the orange-haired girl said. "Near even got better grades than you in the first exams he did..."

The little girl said that in an innocent way, trying to settle things down, but her words only made it all worse.

"What the HELL does that mean?" Mello shouted, and if she wasn't a girl, he _would_ have beaten her out of his way with a lot of cursing. "That I'm some kinda 2nd place or 2nd quality after him? After an albino... big-headed twit... _kid_ like _him_? How _dare_ you..."

Though he was pretty scary with all that anger, inside, Mello was feeling incredibly frustrated. The wound was open and bleeding now. He knew that the real reason why he got so angry with that comment was because it said out loud what he was thinking. He had been beaten by Near in his grades. He would of course recover those, but the simple fact someone surpassed Mello at something seemed to give the kids a 'ray of light', so to say, and had already approve Near over him... not that they ever _really_ approved Mello in the first place, but it didn't matter. What did matter was that that albino weird kid just showed up out of nowhere and damaged his pride. That was unforgivable, a real bad choice for anyone to take; for Near, and for anyone else who stated that fact out loud.

Mello felt an angry heat burn his chest when he looked to the white-haired nerd and saw that same hideous calm and cold look on his face. Dammit, that guy was emotionless, and that made Mello hate him even more. Near was better controlling his emotions than he was. Another thing Near was better than him? No WAY.

That was too much for him to bear. At such blank expression, he shut his fists harshly and literally kicked one of the irritating boys out of his way for good.

"Mello! Don't you turn away, you are going to Roger's office!" the teacher's voice echoed through the corridor, but Mello didn't stop. "Come back!"

He went straight to the library, and didn't even say 'hello' to the nice old lady of the library, since the hatred that consumed him and bled from the wound would probably fall over anyone who made him open his mouth. There was a small individual desk on the far end that he had made his own within the years, and so it was always empty for him. It was his refuge, since no one dared to bother him there and he could keep his mind busy with books and information. But right now, he couldn't focus on any type of reading, so he simply sat abruptly on his chair and stared at the floor, unable to think about anything besides those blank eyes attached to a white face. How the _hell_ could have a hideous albino kid surpass him in so many ways, and only in one week?

If it was possible, shock conquered all his hatred and frustration for a moment, when he felt his eyes burning and his vision got slightly watered. He felt like he snapped. He WASN'T going to cry! Come on, where did that come from? That was just allowing his emotions to take hold of him, again. He surely was missing some chocolate sugar to keep his brain working; he was collapsing to the tiniest difficulty. There was no way he was going to let that Near steal his first place score, and even if he was so angry now, he wouldn't allow himself to cry. No way.

He abruptly dried his tears with his black sleeve, worrying for a moment that someone might see him, but there was no one nearby. Until, of course, the library door opened, revealing the old and tired face of Roger Ruvie, joined with the teacher and the two kids whom he had kicked, and he was escorted to the man's office for the nth time since he was in Wammy's.

Mello couldn't possibly know it before, but that day marked the beginning of his life-time strife with Near.

**- End of Chapter 2 -**

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_Author's Notes:_ Hm, if you know me, you'll know I have a lot in common with Mello. And well, I kinda have wild feelings that are hard to keep quiet, though I'm practicing, but anyways, if someone showed up and destroyed the thing I hold most dear and that keeps me sane, I would cry and be very angry. Especially if that person was an emotionless kid. Believe me, I know a person that REALLY resembles Near the same way I resemble Mello, and he does surpass me too. what an irony

Sorry if the last moment in the library sounds out of character, I tend to mix myself and my real life experiences and feelings a lot in my writings, so they get a lot similar between fics, don't they? Guess that's a bad idea hm.

Hope you can review. It won't take long, ok? You can just say "horrible", or "good", or anything? thanks

I'll try not to take another 3 months for the next update.


	3. L Lawliet

**CHAPTER 3:**

**L LAWLIET**

_Author's Note:_ As for a start, I need to once again apologize for the time taken to update. I get too many blocks. Thanks to everyone who revied/faved this story.

However, Death Note is happening NOW. I mean, if it was real, it would be really now that Near and Mello's arc would be hapenning. You know what this means for a nerd addicted like me? It makes me feel special for being 'living' the story. You know what this means to you? It means that I'll be more regular on updates, I'll have an important chapter on November 11th, and that this fic will end on January 26th if I myself live until then. It's good news of sorts, no?

I had to watch some old and very depressing photos to be able to write this -_- Onto to the chapter with no more delays. This chapter features the selection of Mello and Near as L successors, and it jumps to L's death scene reaction and Mello leaving Wammy's House.

Please review~

**DISCLAIMER:** One of the greater shames of my life, but I don't own Death Note. I don't own Pokémon either.

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_October 31st, 2003_

...Mello could admit he didn't had a personality one could easily adapt to. Specially when someone got themselves on his 'black list'; things would really turn out a hell for that said person.

But Mello would be lying if he said he cared.

He didn't like Near after all. And so he personally made sure he could piss him off everytime he had the chance.

That kid was the most annoying thing on the planet. Just thinking of him made Mello's stomach twist angerly. He was supposed to be twelve years old, dammit. He was young and supposed to be playing, but not _always_ like he was. _Always_ with puzzles and toys and _always_ alone. That kid had some serious social problems. But he didn't even seem to try to be social, he would just stay in-doors all the time in that freaky siting position.

So, Mello's new hobby was to mess with him everytime he could glimpse that albino-like hair (the guy wasn't even a 'total albino', as Mello once mocked him), and he quickly developed some strategies to avoid being caught by a teacher or a caretaker, since appearently, Roger had given the staff an alert about Mello's particular grudge against Near. It wasn't really necessary for the old man to give the alert himself, though; anyone would notice that Mello couldn't stand the younger boy. Reasons for that hatred, however, were still a bit off of range of those lower minds, yet they were pretty obvious, and could be translated to a mere word that Mello hated.

The word, that feeling, seemed too girly, too plain, too used out of context to possess any real meaning that could fully explain his grudge against Near.

'_Envy_'. Or '_jealous_'.

Mello trembled with anger just by the sound of that.

It turned out that it wasn't only on his grades. Near surpassed him in every aspect now. Unbelievably, his social acceptance was better than Mello's, despite the guy being a nerd. Well, maybe not that 'unbelievably' - as admited, Mello was not a very kind person, at least, not on normal standards. And people around him appearantly prefered a lonely and wierd kid whom barely talked to anyone, instead of a boy who was cold and aggressive all the time.

_Oh well, it's their loss._

Thinking of all those things made Mello throw a young girl's toy out of her hands to the floor without even noticing.

"Mello!" she protested, but picked her toy and moved away from him without another word. Everyone knew what was the payback if they messed with Mello, and he was pretty angred already without anyone's fault except his own.

The blond boy sighed in exhaustion for his thoughts and quickly caught the glimpse of an inflamed-red hair, deciding it would be better to sit down.

"Matt," he said somewhat harshly, his previous anger still too recent. It was his natural way of saying 'hello'.

"Hey," the younger boy replied casually, without even lifting his eyes off his console.

Matt was a very strange kid. He was always absorbed in his videogames and randomly spelling things from them that seemed like an alien dialect to Mello. However, beneath that clumsy appearence, apparent apathy for the world and even doofy-like sweetness (as some annoying little girls commented every now and then), Matt was pretty clever. His grades were merely the 'official' certificant of his brilliancy; out of the random comments about game bosses and producing companies, Matt revealed to be very critic about the world and with extraordinarily clear goals for life. Maybe those were the reasons Mello had decided to tag with him in the first place. Correction, _allow_ Matt to tag _him_. He didn't look for friends, they'd come to him if they needed it.

He was a bit strange and all, but Matt was a good company. Even if Mello had to reveal a bit of sentimental exposal to admit they were really friends, that's the way he saw it.

But come to think about it, a small voice in the back of his mind pointed out, Matt and Near weren't _that_ different from each other. They weren't very social persons, both had their nerd-ish obssessions as toys and video games, and both were apathic to a lot of stuff. Besides being geniuses, of course. But of course, at least Matt had some really random moments that made Mello laugh and distract himself when they didn't pissed him off.

Matt was his only friend there. Perhaps he should also include Linda, the kind girl that he had met the first he came there, all those years ago. He sometimes thought that he should treat his few friends better, but then again, why would he do that? He was independent enough, and the few things he liked should not include people at such a high rankings.

Except for L.

If Wammy's House's purposes were made clear to outsiders, at least some of them might point out that those children were being brainwashed. They were all developing their brilliancy, yes, but mainly, being trained to succeed a man whom no one had ever seen, remembered seeing, or would probably ever see. L was more of an icon than an actual person, in some ways. He was Justice, and justice wasn't a person. Justice should never make mistakes, and L didn't make mistakes; Justice should be above the human feelings, and L was. So L was beyond a regular person. And the children there were supposed to become beyond the regular ones, beyond all that, so they could become like L. Seeing by this prespective, it indeed might be said they were being brainwashed.

But maybe they were so brainwashed already that they didn't care. Nor did they see it that way. Mello was one of them.

L was on the top of the small pile of Mello's likings, even above chocolate. L just transmited that kind of feeling of all-mighty power and ability, fighting an eternal and unstoppable war without giving up for the smallest second. He was justice, for goodness sake. That should be enough of an argument, right? Even Mello, with his unstoppable progress to a distorced mind, couldn't help feeling justice was 'the right thing to do and look for'.

L had given a 'conference' of sorts just the other day, where had considered himself to be an idiot, and of how proud he was to be. As if L could be one. But he said that, as well as replying to a little girl that an idiot should be scared of a lot of things, as his childhood, his dreams, the things he holds dear, and specially, of being lied to. Mello had merely listened attentively to all the talk, lying in the back lines without pointing a single question unlike everyone else.

Everyone else, except a certain annoying little kid, of course.

"You're thinking too much," Matt's random voice broke through his deep thoughts.

"...what?"

"You don't blink when you think too much," the red haired explained, still not bothering to lift his eyes from his game. How he was able to notice Mello's eyes if he was so focused on the screen was a mystery. Perhaps the blond's silence gave him away and Matt simply associated it with too much thought. "And your eyes get wide. It's creepy. Stop thinking."

Mello merely stared at Matt for some moments, before bursting into a laughter. Matt sure was random when he wanted to.

"I can't stop thinking no matter how much I want to, it's something I was born with. Speaking about thinking, you know what I've decided? When I grow up, I'll join the Mafia."

"Yeah, right," someone near the two of them said, listening to their conversation. Mello quickly found the spy, and fluminated the black boy with his cold glare.

"Stop listening to other people's talking."

"You'll join the Mafia?" Someone else had got themselves into the conversation that wasn't even their to begin with, another boy with orange hair. "What else? You'll eat chocolate everyday?"

"Yeah I will," Mello replied, not caring if he sounded childish. He did, actually, a little, but no one would dare to say that to him. No one ever believed what he said, and he was kinda saturated from all that.

"Mafia's bad," another kid, this time a girl, replied.

Damn, he certainly did have the gift to gather people around him and be the talking subject.

"Why would you want to join a bad group?"

"Because he's bad himself," the black boy said under his breath, so Mello wouldn't hear him.

"Mafia's cool. Isn't Mafia cool?" Mello asked, knocking Matt on the arm with the elbow.

"I guess," Matt replied casually, without really hearing what Mello said, but having another person to agree with him was the only thing he needed.

"Besides, their evilness is just a point of view."

"Yes, perhaps."

The air grew literally colder around that area, and Matt, who was closest to Mello, even took his eyes of the screen to look at his blond friend and to the white mass of hair that belonged to the boy who had talked.

Why, just _why_ did that nerd had to appear always around him? He wasn't there a moment ago, or Mello would have spotted him. Honestly, it seemed like a haunting now. _'Here was the proof God didn't existed'_, as his mother would have said.

"But anyways, you won't be able to go to the Mafia until you have more than 16 or 18 years," Near continued. "And that's still some years far from now."

"Didn't I said I'd join them when I was older?" Mello spat at him, and as usual, Near didn't even blink. Expressiveless as always. "Mind your own business."

Near didn't even cared to look at Mello, which infuriated him even more if that was possible. Mello was put into some extremes everytime Near was even mentioned, imagine when the being itself appeared in flesh.

Fortunately for the small group of children that had gathered around Mello, and to everyone else in general, Roger appeared in the room with an authoritarian face at that precise moment. He seemed to have sensed the heavy atmosphere himself, as his old and tired eyes fell upon Mello and Near the second he came in.

"Children, L is going to broadcast in a few moments," he informed, and immediately, a series of excited cries raged through the children.

"Wow, L?"

"Now? Is he gonna reveal the successors?"

"Yay, I wonder if he has decided!"

"Ha, Near's gonna win for sure!"

Matt merely blinked, Mello lifted his eyebrows and then glared at the kid who had mentioned Near, and Near...

Wow, what a surprise. No reaction at all.

"Come now, all of you," Roger commanded, and the children obdiently moved.

Matt seemed a little bored to have to lift himself and turn off his game, but he did, followed by Mello. Near was still siting and playing with his ridiculous cards, making a fragile yet impressive miniture of a castle. Mello felt incredibly satisfied as he stepped on the base cards, and the rest of the architecture came crushing down. Roger eyed Mello, his wrinkled face growing at least ten years older, but he said nothing, as did Near, and both left in silence to the room where L's laptop was and from which he would perform his conference.

Conference. In some other school, people would call it 'prize atribution' or something like that. But this was more, much more important than any prize a random student would be granted with in outside this school. This was the purpose of their lives, the purpose of _Mello's life_.

"Hey, Mello!"

Mello recognized that tone automatically. The only girl who would greet him in that kind way was Linda.

"Hey," he replied, turning to the girl who showed up behind him with the same unchanged smile she always had. "You're going to the room listening to L, right?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, smiling. "I just want to hear who the selected successors are, and then, I'll leave."

"Leave?" Mello repeated.

"Yes, I'm old enough to," Linda explained. "I'm already 16, remember? I shouldn't even be here anymore, but I asked Roger to finish this year. I have an offer to work as an artist, and I'm going to take it. Cool, isn't it?"

"Oh. Okay. Yeah, it's cool. I wish I could get out of here as well."

"Really?" she asked, walking beside him. "What's the matter? Have you got yourself in new troubles with Roger?"

"No. I mean, not _new_ troubles, someone like me _always_ has troubles. I'd just like to make something out of my life as well," Mello replied, opening a delicious chocolate bar he stole from a young kid. "But no one'll ever offer me a job like they did to you, and even if I go looking, I won't get a good and 'normal' one."

"Don't say that, silly," Linda laughed. "You are good at a bunch of stuff! Like... hm..."

"Like insulting, beating and stealing?" Mello completed instead of her, bitting his chocolate emphatically and making Linda giggle nervously again. "Yeah, I've got a good _'curriculum vitae'_ to go to the Mafia."

"Nah, you won't go to such a bandits' organization."

Sometimes, the Universe did like Mello a little. As to proove to Linda how filled and perfected his mafia-skills were, Near walked pass them without saying a word, and that untamable urge that sproud from his constantly-bleeding wound in his pride awoke. It was pure instinct really, Mello pushed another boy in front of him so he'd collide with Near annoyingly, making a small fuss start between the crowd that approached the room.

"That was pretty childish," Linda noted with a censureful expression.

Mello led out an immediate 'hmph', and Linda sighed. There was no need arguing with Mello.

"Why don't you like Near?" she decided to asked kindly. "He's... a good kid, you know. He doesn't smile very often and all, but he is cool."

"He is an abnormal emotionless big headed twit," Mello corrected. "And he spends his _entire_ day playing with toys and legos and making puzzles. He's a nerd. I don't like him."

"Are those the real reasons why you don't like him?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing..."

"Good."

----------

"The successors I chose are Near and Mello."

Now there's something Mello should be expecting, but wasn't totally ready for. The two raised their heads, though the only face expressing surprise was Mello's.

"Why?" he asked almost instantly.

"L liked your potencial, obviously..."

"No," L's computer-ly voice interrupted Roger. "You two. You didn't asked questions the last time I talked."

Neither Mello nor Near replied to that, and simply stared at the computer. It was pretty impressive that Near, like Matt, bothered to focus something else rather then his toys more than 5 seconds.

"You have a nasty look in your eyes," L added. "I like you."

There was a moment of silence where no one dared to talk. L had that effect on people.

"Matt will also join the race as a third candidate."

The red-haired seem pretty surprised that L even knew of his existence, and his expressive brown eyes widened as if he had seen a giant Charizard come out of his console.

"Erm, well, so, that's it," Roger procceeded, trying to regain the rythm after that short and strange stop. "There you go, children, with Matt as the third successor..."

The air seemed to have become heavier once more, as the children turned their heads to Mello. Roger had said the prohibitated words.

"Wait, third?" he asked again, and his surprised look changed to an angry one in less than a second. "You mean we have rankings?"

"Not real rankings, they are not important..." It was too late, and Roger sighed for that knowledge.

"So who's number one?" Mello demanded, and his eyes gained the glare-like and threatening shadow as they did everytime Near surpassed him and that expressed his feelings too well.

"Mello..." Roger tried, but he didn't find his words, under that icy glare of the younger boy.

----------

_December 5th, 2004_

No _way_.

That was simply impossible. _Impossible_. Something that could not, in any logical or even ilogical circumstance, ever happen. It simply couldn't.

_L is dead._

How?! How the HELL would that be possible? How could you kill someone whom no one has ever seen, how can you kill a shadow personality, or rather, how can you kill justice?

"Kira."

Damn Japanese language. Making the word 'killer' appear so much more sounding.

Dead. L is dead. Those words were still shocking him as much as they had when he heard him, no more than thirty minutes ago.

...How?

Damn Kira. Everyone in Japan nowadays, and randomly in other countries, knew about that vigilante with the supernatural ability of sorts to cleanse the world of the 'scum' by killing them. A damn God incarnated. If things stayed as they were, it would only be a matter of time until people actually started using that as a dogma and became fond of that amateur serial killer, who thought his murders were less condanable as he didn't dirtied his hands directly.

And L went to fight him off. That man was a killer, a '_Kira_', and no one who killed like that should stay without a punishment. Without Justice. Therefore, L.

And now, _L is dead_.

Mello felt like killing someone. He actually went to the point of grabbing the old man Roger by his collar and shacking him and if that would make L come back to life. His detriorating sanity suffered a big loss with that news. Mello was a genius, a brilliant prodigy, but something in his mind sometimes got off, more 'off' than in the rest of the geniuses. The causes weren't so much pointed out by anyone, as they didn't really matter to most people, Mello included. He was someone that simply was capable of doing _anything_ to get the things he needed, to achieve his goals. He was simply bounded in that place. Forced into some limits, controlled.

Well, not anymore, was he?

He left that damn office, where he had spent so much time during his life for meaningless reasons compared to the current one. He left that office knowing the person he cared most in the world, the person he longed to become and overcome, was dead. He left knowing that he wasn't _allowed_ to do it by the official ascendency, and that Near had been the best again. And most importantly, he left knowing the person responsable for L's death.

Leaving Roger's office that day meant a lot of things to Mello. Leaving the office, leaving the House, leaving his boundaries behind. He was going to be free to do what he wanted, and what he wanted was to see the bloody head of Kira. In the same plate as a defeated Near. Someday, he would have both, and he was tired to be pushed back from doing things his way. He was going to have both by _his_ means.

"Mello!"

That voice seemed to be able to break through his thoughts no matter how profound they were. Though he wasn't really in the mood for that, he turned his head, and saw red hair appear in front of him, with a pair of aviator-like glasses on his face.

"Mello! Where're you going?" Matt asked, looking at the bag Mello carried over his shoulder with basic items with a questioning gaze.

"Away."

"Away?"

"Yes, Matt, away," he repeated, sighing without patience for Matt's innocent and confused words.

"But wait, away... away?" Matt started following Mello has he turned his back to the younger boy and moved towards the orphanage's main hall. "You mean going away from the House? Outside?"

"I'm old enough to."

"But... why? What's going on? And where're you going to?"

"Doesn't matter" Mello replied, stopping before passing through the main doors to the rained-soaked fields. He turned to Matt again, seeing those big eyes of his behind the glasses staring at the blond's face, and had to sigh once more. "I'm tired of living here. That's why. I'll go somewhere, doesn't matter where. Just wanna get oughta here, ok?"

"But the gates are closed and all..."

"Matt, are you kiddin' me? You think it's a shut gate that's gonna stop me from doing what I want?" Mello almost laughed at the boy's naiveness. He wasn't meant to leave in a cage, and looking to Wammy's now, it sure looked like a cage to him.

"Does Near have something to do with that?" Matt asked, and the little compassion Mello might have felt for leaving his friend behind disappeared.

"Why would Near have to do with anything?" he tried to keep his voice controled, but that angry jolt that poured from his inner wound couldn't be hidden.

"Come on, Mello, I know you. You have a big inferiority complex, you know that? And Near's..."

"MATT!"

"Besides, its raining like hell," Matt continued, avoiding getting Mello angrier than he already was with those comments. "Can't you at least..."

"It doesn't rain in hell," Mello replied, and turned his back to Matt again. "I'm going to live my way, and it's now."

He didn't say anything else, and stepped through the doors. The cold rain fell over him harshly, but he didn't mind it on bit. He just wanted to go somewhere far from there, far away from everything that would remind him of England and Wammy's House and Near. He was pretty certain he heard Matt shouting his name again, but he didn't look back. As Matt said and as he already excepted, the metal gate was closed, as it was pretty much always when it rained. Mello sighed remembering Matt's commentary about the closed gate, and then started to climb the bars of the gate. He actually thought that, if he tried, he could have past through the bars with this skinny body, but he prefered to jump. He landed gracefully as a cat, though soaking his feet a bit more, and without saying goodbye to that place nor to the memories in it, he walked as fast as he could without running, and turned on the nearest street.

**- End of Chapter 3 -**

--------------------------------------------------

_Author's Note:_ Sorry for the overreaction on L's death, but this is a fic focusing on Mello and he was pretty shocked with L's death, wasn't he? Also, Mello isn't totally normal. He has an uncontroled side to him, which I associate in this fic to his necessity of being flaterated (from his inferiority complex, needing to be number 1), his hate towards Near as he is better than him, and his past. Yes, I like to include the past when modding the personality of a character, hopeful staying faithful, and I will feature it in a future chapter.

No offense to people who like video-games and live for them. I am one of them. And Japanese is the most beautiful language in the world alongside Italian.

By some reason, I think the next chapters are going to be boring. I think this chapter WAS boring, too long. Let's hope I'm wrong.

Although I know that, according to Another Note, Mello has met L in person, I haven't read it yet, and anyways, there's already a very good fic around of that encounter. So I won't write it. In this fic, the only contact Mello and Near ever had with L was through that computer talk. And did anyone get my random reference to Beyond Birthday in the part I say the children have to be 'beyond' everyone else? I'm random like that, yeah.

Don't forget to review please~


	4. Rod Ross & Mafia

**CHAPTER 4:**

**ROD ROSS & MAFIA**

_Author's Note:_ Thanks again to the people that reviewed the previous chapter, though I see I am loosing reviewers. oh well I had that coming. And after this one, either I get your approval, or your total forsaking.

Anyways, this chapter does some time skipping. And it deals with an amount of thinking in the beginning. Contains how Mello got into the Mafia, how Mello had Ross respect him so much. I will not feature Sayu's kidnapping in this fic, sorry. I have too many size-problems. Also, Halle, the second main character of this fic, is introduced in the end, and I **HATE** it. You'll see why. Damn, that's why I hate to miss deadlines, they f**k my whole schedule.

Now, warnings: Language. There are some cursing, and small sexual references. Also, this has a bit of gore. Tiny little bit, but if you imagine it in your mind, perhaps it becomes a little bloodier. I fear I may have turned Mello out of character. It's just that I see him pretty much beyond the edge while he is in the Mafia, I think his purposes were far worse than Light's. He slows down afterwards, but while he has his 'total mafia freedom', I think he went to some extremes. Lastly, this chapter may contain a slight one-sided part with Ross and Mello but please don't be shocked or sickened - not only will it not get developed (O_o talk about stupid English), as it's reality. Mafia isn't a playhouse after all, is it. Besides, Tsugumi Ohba himself said that Ross is the most evil character of the whole story, and it doesn't appear very developed in the original.

Let's take a deep breath.

**Update:** Corrected the MANY typos and grammar mistakes.

**DISCLAIMER:** Don't you know already what to say in here? Don't own Death Note.

* * *

_December 31st, 2004_

_Winchester, England_

Now he was freezing.

At such a moment, while fireworks exploded in the sky to greet the great New Year, he had to admit to himself that he was a child.

He was fifteen, dammit. In a normal outside world (outside from Wammy's, that is), a fifteen year old boy was precisely that, a boy. A child supposed to be studying in a public school with medium grades, with a warmth home with a younger sibling or two, and with two loving parents that would feed him and love him. Right now, a normal 15-year-old boy would be in his warm house with his family enjoying the fireworks and playing with the brand new Christmas presents.

But not Mello. He wasn't a _'normal 15-year-old boy'_. Coming to think about it, he wasn't a normal boy to begin with, ever since he was born, even back when his parents and his brother were alive. At least in the 'heart-warming family' category he wasn't. And now, he definitely was _beyond_ normal. He lived in an orphanage built to raise geniuses. That had to count to distinguish him, right? And it certainly did. He _was_ a genius, whose life purpose was to become the greatest detective in History.

The greatest detective in History, who was now dead.

But no matter how much Mello had become devoted to L, even without ever meeting him, there were a lot of things wrong with the place that raised the children. Love wasn't expected in an orphanage, it had nothing to do with that; it had to do with the basics, with the basics everyone else knew, the ones that didn't grow up to become L. And now Mello came to understand that he, too, lacked some of those basics.

Putting in a simple way, perhaps, they lacked the practice. The action. They were all theory. According to some people (and surely, the ones responsible for Wammy's House), to geniuses, the theory should be more than enough for them to deal with the practice when the time came.

But they were wrong. One thing is to know that famine exists, the other and totally different is to feel it. One thing is to know cold, and the other is to feel it in your bones. One thing is to know that people live in the streets with no food and with cold, and the other is to be you the one to live in the streets with no food and with cold. Wammy's House missed that apparently small aspect of the children's education, which was _anything_ but small.

That, or perhaps Mello wasn't a genius after all. Perhaps at the age of fifteen, he was supposed to be the adult everyone else in Wammy's seemed to wish him to be, and as an adult, he would give use to this theory and overcome the obstacles of the practice with ease. If not, then he was no adult and no genius. He should indeed be far from being an adult, because he wasn't sure what he had expected to happen once he got out of the orphanage, what magical opportunities would open their paths to him; but whatever his thoughts about his future might have been, they were clearly the thoughts of a mere child compared to the real life situation. As for a genius... now that, he knew he was. He simply had to evolve into a new type of genius to come out of this new situation.

Damn it, he wanted to kill someone.

Had L ever felt the smallest of hunger in his life? Or had the _royal and all-mighty_ big headed twit Near ever felt cold? They were protected in their distinctive spheres, above from the 'common problems of the world'.

_L tried to solve those problems,_ Mello forced himself not to hate L as well. His growling stomach was trying to affect his brain. _He might have never felt some of the problems of the world, but he at least tried to solve them_.

He missed chocolate. He needed sugar to keep his brain working, he was already breaking after 72 hours without any taste of chocolate, or any type of food, for that matter. That was a lot of time, dammit, being it a genius and an adult or not.

Mello threw himself against a dark wall near an alley and slid to the floor, covering his head as best as he could with the thin hood that did not block half of the howling wind that wiped the streets. He should at least find some gloves, he thought to himself, as he brought near to nothing from Wammy's when he fled. Again, a child or a genius-less?

Mello sighed in frustration and raise his head to the last exploding firework, as its thousands of sparks of a blue-ish light fade into the night sky.

_What the hell am I gonna do now?_

_

* * *

_

_Somewhere between January and February, 2008_

_Los Angeles, USA_

"Please, I told Ross I'd pay him... I..."

"Yeah, we know you did."

"But ya talk a lot, don't ya Anderson?"

"I..."

An unbelievably thin young man, thin as a skeleton with no flesh in it and not in his late-twenties yet, was helplessly lying on the ground, and cried in pain as a huge, black man stepped over his shot leg with a grin.

"And if you were gonna pay him, then why were you hiding all this time?" a partner of the black man, with a disproportionate fancy suit to the underground environment they were in, asked to the one lying on the floor. "Was it because you were trying to find the money? For like... seven months already?"

"Look at ya, Anderson, you don't seem like a tough Mafia member now," the black man taunted as Anderson whimpered in fear, and both men started laughing.

"Please... I... it was Kira!" Anderson explained, though his words had no effect on the men. "Kira is killing criminals around, I was trying to escape just him, not Ross, I..."

Anderson was interrupted again, but this time it was by a different laughter than the previous men had taunted him with. It was rather shocking not because it was so youthful, but because it seemed so superior and deranged. Anderson saw the shape of the other person in the room move behind his two tall inquisitors, the one who had shot him earlier and kept himself behind the shadows until then, and he finally approached the light enough for his face to be seen.

"You are one of the most stupid men I have ever been forced to meet."

Compared to the other men and even Anderson himself, he was nothing more than a boy, with an feminine blond hair obsessively brushed around his face and entirely dressed in black leather. It wasn't so hot in there, but he had removed his jacket and walked only with his tight waistcoat, revealing that he also shared a thin physical stature. There were no signs in his chest that might indicate his gender, but to be honest, he _looked_ like a girl, though he had the voice of a boy. A surprising item dangled around his neck, an overused black rosary. Normally such appearance within the Mafia would belong to a boss's personal whore, but there was nothing in that _boy_, or girl, that wasn't threatening, at least to Anderson, being overpowered like he was. He looked half deranged with that smirk that remained imprinted on his lips from his laughter, and his azure eyes stared weirdly at Anderson.

"You think that running away would save you from Kira?" he repeated, and Anderson guessed that he was definitely a boy. "Once he knows your name and face, you're done for. Well, not you, apparently, at least you were clever enough to stay away from crowds. Took me quite a while to find you."

"H-How...?" Anderson stuttered, and instinctively tried to crawl away from the boy. Both the black man and the one with the suit stepped back, as if respecting the younger one, which only frightened Anderson more. "How d-did..."

"...I find you?" Mello finished instead of him, and smiled again. "I have quite the skills, Anderson. I'm a detective."

Mello face changed dramatically and faster than humanly possible from a sarcastic smirk to an angry glare, and he pulled something Anderson couldn't see but could sense what was.

"Please, take me to Ross, I'll pay him, don't..." Anderson crawled against the wall behind him, dragging his injured and bleeding leg through the floor and staring in horror to the gun on Mello's hand.

"You've seen my face, Anderson," Mello explained simply. "In no time, I'll be the one Kira'll have his eyes upon, and I'm not gonna let my features become known to unnecessary people, now am I?"

Before Anderson could start begging again, Mello shot him in the head, and his bony body fell to the ground with a strangely heavy sound.

The underground room was silent for some moments, which were broken by Mello's sighing and by the sound of paper rip as he opened a chocolate bar.

"You think this will be enough to Ross find me trustworthy?" he asked the two men, whom he had already conquered trust, or at least, as much trust as it could be possible in the Mafia world, and tore a big piece out of his chocolate.

"Uh, I think so," the black man and the other eyed each other before replying almost simultaneously.

Mello sighed again for the subordinates' slowness, and turned his back to Anderson's body, picking his jacket from the floor on his way out.

"One of you bring his body," he ordered, but he quickly guessed it would only slow those guys even more. No matter how thin it was, a dead body was still heavy. "Nevermind. Bring his head only, it should be more than enough."

Since when did death become such an easy subject? He had no idea. He really didn't care. As the two Mafia members were taking too long on their task, Mello didn't stop himself from looking behind him in time to see both men grab the dead body and literally chop its head in the most archaic fashion imagined in the 21th century, with small pocket knives. And he didn't even flinch at that image or to those nightmarish noises. Why would he? He had more important things to worry about anyways.

His _'L-side'_ was buried beneath a ton-heavy shovel of revengeful obsession.

* * *

He did it. He knew that, no matter how dangerous and sadist Rod Ross was, he was clever enough to see the value of a diamond when it fell in his hands. Mello was now an official _protégé_ of the Mafia leader.

Not that he enjoyed that ranking. He didn't like to be a tool to no one. But he would escalate to something more than a protégé soon enough.

Rod Ross was that type of man one can smell danger coming out of his pores. One had to have that aura to be the leader of a Mafia gang after all, and actually, the leader of pretty much the only Mafia gang that hadn't been wiped out or suffered losses by Kira. They had a common enemy, Ross and Mello; but Mello wouldn't show all his cards in the first turn. He would join as a genius he was with a grudge against Kira like everyone in the underworld of crime had, and slowly start to gather more and more information, more and more control over that organization.

Taking over the Mafia was a fool's suicidal wish, being it a genius or not, he knew deep down. But Mello would do it, or at the very least, become the most influent he would be able to. He needed to have back-ups and, putting it in honest terms, _pawns_, for the greater game that would start when he was able to figure out what he could about the killing notebook. Because he already knew about that, and Ross didn't. Matt had been the computer genius, but Mello had some talents in that field as well. He would reveal things when time seemed proper.

After he was elected Ross's protégé, he was left alone as he requested to be able to figure out where another guy owning money to Ross had fled to. When the word spread about Anderson's death, other fugitives would begin to panic. But Mello's mind was far from such an irrelevant aspect. Those were transitory jobs we would have to do to gain that mentioned control and status among the members and to Ross, so he could start offering suggestions and start guiding everything the way he wanted. He would have to play the role of submissive for a tormenting while, but the prize would be worth it.

Sighing and looking away from his documents on the guy he was supposed to find, Mello lifted his feet over the table and pulled a new chocolate bar from his jacket, chewing on a piece thoughtfully.

Man, he just wished he could see those kids that had ignored him when he was in Wammy's House, to show them that he had done everything he said he would. He was in the Mafia, he ate chocolate every day, and he was living his own way without anyone else's rules besides his own. There was only one thing missing, which was one of the main reasons he was getting involved in all that. His number 1 place was still being usurped by Near. He would kill two birds with one stone, when he avenged L's death by beating Kira, and at the same, overcome Near once and for all. He would be patient; and his efforts would give positive results soon enough.

Something broke through his thoughts then. As Mello sensed something weird in the atmosphere, Ross had grabbed one of his wrists and threw him against the wall, using his 20-centimetres-taller figure to block his exit.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Mello demanded, angry. He tried to pull his arm, but Ross was a lot stronger than he was, apparently, and instead of getting free, his other wrist was caught by the man.

"You know, you are pretty beautiful." Ross said, smiling. Mello stared him right in the eyes with his cold glare.

"And you get the fuck away from me." Just because he was supposed to play the protégé's role, that _didn't_ mean invading personal space or adding extras to the job.

"Hey, where did such a nice kid like you learn such bad words?"

"None of your fucking business, now let go of me!"

"You look a lot like a girl, y'know."

DAMMIT, why did everyone think that? Mello's eyes mirrored his fury, only to Ross's new grin.

"You know, something's off with you," the Mafia man pointed out, still holding his wrists tightly to prevent him from escaping. "Why would a pretty-looking kid like you want to join the Mafia? And where did you get all that info about Anderson, or even me, for that matter? You a cop?"

"I'm far from that," Mello assured, trying a second time to pull his arms away from Ross's grasp and failing once more. "Let go of me."

"Why should I believe your word?" Ross laughed, and lifted Mello's arms against the wall. "You are far too clever for your own good, and for mine. Either you start explaining yourself, or I'll get it out of you very..." Ross licked his lips then, and chuckled."...personally."

Mello's stomach twitched. Fucking adults. And give a double meaning to that.

Guess that when you are younger (not to mention shorter) than most people around you, you need to learn alternative tactics to defend yourself. His mind was beyond judging his actions now, and if it wasn't, Mello would block it at such a moment.

The next thing Ross saw was a death glare coming from a pair of frozen eyes, and then pain exploded near his thigh as Mello kicked him on the groin, making the older man grunt in pain and releasing him. Mello proved his agility as he pulled his gun from the back of his pants and hit the man on the head, knocking him off balance. As soon as the shocked Mafia leader hit the floor heavily, Mello fell on top of him, sitting over his chest and cutting his way out just as it had been the inverse less than 10 seconds ago.

Guess the Universe didn't hate him that much. Looks like it was speeding things up for him.

"Now you listen to me," Mello demanded, pressing the gun against Ross's throat as if trying to pierce him with it. Which wasn't such a bad idea. "One: try to touch me again, and it won't be just a kick in the nuts. Two: my cleverness allows me to think ahead of you at all times, same applies to the ones you are against, so you oughta put your small brain to work and think it should be better for you to profit from that cleverness than to have it used against you."

Ross was starting to choke as he could neither lift his chest because of Mello's weight above it, nor did the air pass through his throat because of the gun pressing against his Adam Apple, but Mello didn't loosen either of the obstacles to his breathing.

"Three:" he continued, actually lowering his voice as if to complicate the man's already hard attempt to hear him because of the lack of oxygen that caught his brain. "Agreeing on the previous point where my cleverness gets the higher role, I get to be the boss next to you. You'll see I have quite the ability to get things right. Finally..."

Mello raised the gun again and hit him roughly on the face, drawing blood immediately.

"Call me a girl again, and it's the last thing you do. Are we clear?"

"...yeah," Ross gasped, panting harshly as he tried to regain his breath.

"Good."

* * *

_November 4th, 2009_

"See you tomorrow, Halle." Rester, always a gentleman, insisted in bringing her home when they got a break or when they clocked out, despite her persisting refusal of such a bother to him.

"See you, Rester," she said. "You're sure you don't want at least a cup of coffee?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," the tall man replied, smiling. "But thanks anyways."

"Okay. See you."

Halle Lidner lived alone in a fine New York apartment. Pretty much a plain and simple apartment, but she enjoyed it very much. Besides, it wasn't paid with her salary; rather, a benefit from her job.

She was a FBI agent. A brilliant FBI agent, good enough to have been picked among many to form a special elite, the SPK, or Secret Provision for Kira, as the only woman in the group. Her personal grudge against Kira was just a bonus, it hadn't been what got her in such a top organization. And she worked for a very strange but genius kid, Near. He was a British kid, from an orphanage that raised gifted children to succeed L, the greatest detective in the world. As far as she had learned, though, L had died, killed by Kira and his otherworldly killing notebook, and now a substitute was replacing him. But Near was the real successor, and the fake successor had high chances of being Kira himself according to Near's views. Basically, amongst their fight against Kira, there was a struggle for L's place between the possible Kira and Near. Nothing inedited about it, she admitted to herself.

What _was_ more inedited was that her job was far from being rewarding. They made next to no developments on the Kira case, only argued with the Japanese police and the Second L, and less than a month ago, almost her entire team got killed. Not by Kira, the person they hunted, but rather by Near's next competitor, a genius-turned-criminal called Mello. A second-rater successor to L, so it seemed.

Gevanni, one of her co-workers, seemed to belittle Mello, but Halle, and Near himself, thought otherwise. He was a Mafia member, more like their leader, and he managed to got hold of that notebook faster than the original L would have been able to. Not only that, as he kidnapped the chief of the Japanese Police and the daughter of one of the Japanese investigators to do so. The police officer died, though Near said Kira had been responsible for that death, not Mello. But he kidnapped him anyway, and he kidnapped a nineteen year old girl. Halle followed the exchanging process of the girl Yagami Sayu for the killing notebook, and at all times, the girl's life had been at stake. One small slip, and she would have died. Halle really valued Yagami Soichiro's devotion to his family and grew to respect him during the small yet intense hours of the blackmailing.

Those same hours proved that Mello was far more than a regular mob member. He was dangerous, _very_ dangerous. And the one thing that kept bothering her was, that dangerous man had left her alive. The Mafia killed every member of the SPK whose face and name were public, but he didn't kill _her_. Her real name shouldn't have been so hard to find if he found the ones of everybody else. Yet, she was alive. There had to be a downside to this; and she was reluctant to learn of how downside it would be.

_Youth is lost_, she thought, sighing and blowing those thoughts out of her mind with a shake of her blonde hair. She was thinking too much, and she was feeling physically exhausted. Clocking out of work meant rest. She needed a bath, and afterwards, she would sleep until the next day's dawn.

However, as she stepped into the living room, she sensed something was wrong. She felt watched, and her overdeveloped perception of her surroundings rarely failed her. Which couldn't mean good news.

She went for her gun, but whoever was waiting for her was faster and caught her arm before she made it to her holster, covering her mouth and pressing a gun to her head.

"Be still and don't make a sound," her captor ordered, and though Halle had never hear his voice before, she knew immediately who it was just by listening to that youthful and sarcastic voice. It was as if she had predicted it with her previous thoughts.

The same criminal she had been thinking about, precisely the _'very dangerous'_ one. In her house, seizing her and pointing a gun to her head. Mello.

"Be still and don't make a sound," Mello repeated when Halle tried to fight him off. "And I'll let you go."

She gave a muffed protest and tried to hit Mello, but she completely failed her move.

"You hear me? Just shut up and be still, blonde bitch."

That blew away any fear she might be experiencing. Who the hell did that _kid_ think he was, to give her orders around and to insult her? She didn't really mind knowing he had a gun nor knowing who he was, she was really just offended for having someone giving orders at her in her own house. Halle was very protective of her own space, she guessed, and she 'didn't' like to be insulted, being it by a killer or not.

Although it might have been a rather childish way to respond, especially for a capable FBI agent like herself, instead of snapping the kid off her and taking away his gun, Halle stepped over the boy's foot to try to release herself and call Rester. Though Mello did held back a small grunt, that only made him press the gun harder against her head.

"Will YOU - SHH!"

Halle would be silent just by the way he said that. It was quite surprising, for the 'dangerous killer' to sound like that. Wanting to scream at her, but then controlling himself in the last moment not to warn the agent outside, though he was probably out of the building already. Funny. Just so... child-like. It seemed out of the image she had pictured in her mind.

After Mello waited a few more moments as to make sure Rester was gone for good, he finally let go of Halle, though keeping the gun aimed at her with a glare.

"Damn stubborn woman. Next time you make another scene like that - _and if you try to hit me again_ - I'll shoot you."

"In that case, don't arrest me like that and don't insult me," Halle replied, cleaning invisible dust off her clothes like if Mello had infected her, and raised her head towards him, finally seeing the infamous Mello more than in a drawing.

Her first impression was beyond anyone she might have thought about. A 19 year old boy, that was what Mello was. He was even some inches shorter than her. The first thing she saw was leather. Black leather so tight to his body that it actually made her lose her breath imagining herself using that. Who would dress in such an expensive and tight leather these days? At least it gave him a definitely Mafioso look. Immediately afterwards, and simply not first because the black leather jumped to sight, was his face; Mello ought to be the most feminine boy she had ever met before. Perhaps his face wasn't really feminine, but the way he brushed his hair, falling next to his head as golden cascade and slightly curled on the bottom, was really like of a girl's. And besides the obvious fact of the gun pointed at her head, there was an unexpected rosary around his neck.

Mello gave an indignant «hmph» that had a sarcastic sound to it as he sensed Halle's scanning him, interrupting her mental analysis.

"You at least know who I am? Don't seem like it."

"Why? Was I supposed to be shivering out of fear for having a killer, junior-Mafia leader at my house? Mello?" she answered, challenging.

Maybe those really _were_ reasons to be intimidated, but Halle wasn't that type of woman. Even if Mello had killed her partners some weeks ago. The wrath for being insulted and attacked like that was still pumping in her veins with too much haste to allow her to understand the danger she might be in, she guessed.

Mello repeated his characteristic and superior sniff.

"Not gonna beg for your life?" he taunted. Halle found something more interesting to point out.

"You look like a girl."

That hit Mello as if it had been a rock, and he felt like a painful whistle was screaming in his head as if trying to smash it.

"You say that again, and I'll blow your head off."

Halle lifted her arms as if in a peace offer, though she was fighting not to smile. She was actually feeling pretty confused with that Mello character. Why did he look and acted so much like a child in her eyes?

"Aren't you gonna ask me why did I left you alive?" Ah, there was the part of Mello that fitted the 'dangerous' category.

"I have thought about it, yes," Halle replied, rather tranquil, though for a moment, she felt a shiver in her back from Mello's glare-like eyes. "And I think it's obvious that you want to blackmail me as you did with Yagami."

"You're clever for a blonde woman, aren't you," Mello taunted, and a rush of offensive hit Halle again, forcing her to support on the ironic fact that Mello was blond as well. "You're right, Halle Bullock."

This time, Halle shivered for real out of shock. He knew her real name. Names had stopped to be a pleasant thing to hear nowadays. They were more of a threat than a greeting. Specially from that boy-man who waved between child-like attitudes to life-threatening ones. He was actually making her feel dizzy. Perhaps the most correct accurate word to describe him wasn't 'dangerous', but rather 'unpredictable'.

"What do you want in exchange for my life?" Halle asked, already knowing that this question would be inevitable.

"Information," Mello replied simply. "You work with Near. I want to know what he's up to. Reports, and good ones, no fake info, nor telling him about me. Otherwise..." Mello pulled the gun away from Halle's head and instead made the movement of handwriting with it. "...you go join your work pals."

"What if Near finds out?"

"I think you're clever enough to praise your life above that motherfucker's, no? Make sure you're _not_ discovered."

Halle was forced to think Mello's waving moods and attitudes were affecting her brain as well. By some reason, those changing moods weren't scaring her as they should, and instead, it was making her focus on a really irrelevant aspect compared to the fact that her life was being threatened.

Why did Mello look so young in her eyes? Halle was only nine years older than Mello, so she couldn't really be considered old enough to be his mother, but that blond boy had such a childish look to his face that it wouldn't seem so improbable at a first sight. But then, his eyes were a lot older than everything else in him; even older than his real age. But that motherly instinct was getting the best of her, enough to pull her away from the fact she might die.

"I don't like people saying that kind of words in my house," she said, wanting to snap herself right afterwards. Damn, she needed to sleep. Why couldn't she focus on the real important matters?

"What the FUCK do you people have against cursing?" Mello asked, angry. Damn it, he had reasons for asking that; he had been listening people saying that to him throughout his entire life. "Once you learn them as common ones, you can't let go of them. And why the hell would you worry about that when I'm saying I'll kill you unless you do what I tell you?"

At least Mello was more focused than she was.

"You're weird," he muttered to himself, but Halle caught it nevertheless. "This is simple: you get me the information on the SPK's investigations - you live. You don't - and you die. Are we clear?"

Halle snapped out of another momentary trance when Mello approached her suddenly, stopping right in front of her.

"I think we are more than clear," Mello said moments later, toying with his gun in front of Halle's eyes. "Now then, I have other matters to attend to. Unlike you, I have a life. Gotta blaze."

Halle was really pissed at that kid who thought himself better than her. But the truth was, he didn't really gave her a chance to reply to his aggressive comments with her sedated mind, and when she noticed, he was already out of her house slamming the door loudly behind him, leaving her anesthetized with those confused thoughts.

They would meet again more times, but those would all be after the blond teenager had gained a deep scar in both his body and mind, and received a literal death sentence over his head.

**- End of Chapter 4 -**

**

* * *

**

Author's Note: I **HATE **Halle's part. Dammit, I hate it. I needed to introduce Halle before the events of November 11th and so I had to put her in this chapter, but I hate it. I was too sleepy.

Please review. My next chapter will come up November 11th.

PS: The "Will you – shh" line is from Randall from Monsters, Inc. And the "Gotta blaze" is from Hades of Hercules. I like animated films yes.

PS,2: A sorta wizard or more like a fortune-teller in my country said that a big disaster is going to happen on November 11th. If I don't update on my deadline, you'll know that either it affected me or someone near me. Oh well, let's wait and see, shall we.


	5. Yagami Soichiro

**CHAPTER 5:**

**YAGAMI SOICHIRO**

_Author's Note:_ Yay. Not a single review on my previous chapter. Double yay. *sigh* I'm a horrible person. 'I write for myself', I think THAT'S true. But I also think that I like having replies. Some goes to my videos. Guess I wouldn't be good to handle success if I ever get any. ugh, screw it

You won't see me mentioning Soichiro in the very first chapter as an important character in Mello's life, though he is. After all, Soichiro hates Mello for kidnapping

Sayu and all, and still gives him a chance to live. Soichiro isn't really able to hate anyone, I think, not even Mello, but yet, he is the one that allowed Light and Takada to kill Mello later.

The thing that made me came to fanfic-realm was writing novelazions to films and anime episodes, so I thought of making it here. It gives a deeper feeling to a scene, I think. But my lack of enthusiasm made me skip most of the novelazion part.

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own Death Note nor Mello nor Soichiro.

* * *

Yagami Soichiro.

The first time Mello heard that guy's name had been only some weeks ago, in some Mafia report on the Japanese Police regarding the Kira case. Then some time later, by the director of the police himself, Takimura. That Yagami was quite a shot, apparently, and Mello did had the opportunity to talk to him (or, in other others, threaten him) during the exchange of the girl Sayu for the murder notebook and the subsequent blackmailing Mello did. And during that time, Mello had the chance to see exactly what type of man he was; one of those old guys who seeked and prefered an unexisting justice over his own life and satefy. But he was also pretty soft when it came to his family, Sachiko, Light and Sayu, going as far as to betray his beliefs and hand a murder weapon to a mafia gang.

...Those types of people made him feel so sick. One thing was L, _making_ justice. Another thing were guys who _seeked_ justice.

But still, there was something different with Yagami. The old guy had a strong will, he had to give him that. There wasn't anyone Mello would risk so much for as Yagami did for his daughter, and perhaps that was what gave him credit in Mello's consideration.

Mello couldn't possibily know, though, that leaving that man alive would cause him so much trouble.

----------

November 10th, 2009, 23:53

He wasn't expecting to be left alone by the Japanese police, nor the USA (he had blackmailed the president, after all), nor by Kira himself, but he had to admit, things were prooving to be a little tougher than he had thought.

The attack by the president's men, David Hoope's consequent suicide and then the appearance of that strange shinigami Sidoh, with all the information he provided about the notebook's rules and the Eye trade (that saved them from the SWAT team attack)... he had to smile to himself happily when he had such an upper hand over Kira and specially over Near.

"You know, I think we're being spyed," someone commented, forcing Mello to return to earth.

"Do you, know," Mello ironized, biting his chocolate.

"Yeah," the mafia member insisted, though a bit angried that Mello hadn't given him any consideration. "Some wierd-looking brat with goggles was sniffing around the discarted boxes of your chocolate. It could be nothing, but it's at least strange..."

Wierd brat? For a moment, Mello nearly formed an image in his mind of a brat he knew that fitted that description, but Snydar interrupted his visualization.

"That addiction of yours is gonna blow us up someday," he said through his teeth, and Mello grinned superiorly.

"Well, it'll certainly blow _you_ up faster than it will me, that's for sure."

Snydar was forced to remain silent by Ross's glare, but Mello could see the pure hatred on the man's eyes towards him. That only made him smile again. They hadn't liked each other ever since they had led eyes upon each other, but Snydar gained a particular grudge against him after the Shinigami Eye trade he was forced to do with the shinigami Shidoh by Mello's command. Although Mello was well aware of the risk it meant to have anyone know his real name, specially someone who detested him, he just couldn't help smiling to all that frustrated hate.

"AND, I'm not addicted," he added to Snydar, biting another piece of his chocolate emphatically. "It's my sugar supliment. I need calories to keep my brain working. That's why you're stupid and I'm not. Go to the monitor room."

Snydar held back an indignanted sigh as he obeyed Mello's order, only to earn himself a new grin from the younger blond boy.

"You say they are allied?" one of Ross's trusted men picked up the topic they were discussing previously - the possible alliance between the Japanese police and Kira.

"Pretty good chance they are," Mello replied to the mafia guy, this time tearing a big piece of chocolate and chewing on it thoughtfully. "By some logical conclusions about all the previous Kira investigation back in 2004, there's a good chance Kira has access and possibly influence over the Japanese police."

"That means he'll definatly come after us directly, after out 'talks' with the cops while the kidnappings were on," Ross said.

"That's obvious. He probably _is_ already scheming something right now. We've been pissing him off, remember? He'd be after us for our very existence anyways, had we stole the notebook or not."

Mello realized he no longer had any chocolate to chew on, so he took another bit.

"My point isn't just him. It's Kira's connections with the Japanese police... that may be a precious lead for us to overpower them, though they are a pretty strong offensive as a single entity, let alone together. I need more information to be sure if they are allied or not so I'll know what to do next."

"Sure, we'll get more info," Ross replied, and as if obeying his orders immediatly, two men left the room. "We still have advantage on them, so we have some time to -"

Mello had to wide his eyes a bit from surprise when he saw that everyone around him froze. For less than a second, it was like the air had disappeared and everyone had turned to stone.

And then grunts and screams of pain exploded from everywhere, as at least all of the Mafia members fell dead against the cold floor. It was so quick that no one could have reacted, and Mello wouldn't have, anyways. His slightly surprised look vanished to deep irritation, and bit his chocolate angryly.

Now that _was_ some timing. It was just as if they had been listening to their conversation to pick the right time to have the full spotlight on them.

That had to be the work of Kira. They also heard a blast somewhere in the base as the Mafia guys collapsed, which must have meant they were being attacked out of nowhere. And what a hell of an attack -- call it more an extermination type.

Near wouldn't do such a move; he was too calculist and passive to attack him, and above all, he would _never_ join Kira. So it had to be the Japanese police. He assumed that partnership was a possibility, but he wasn't ready for such situation yet. His irritated mood only got worse when looking at the surveilance cameras, and saw the shinigami Sidoh still and quiet, without any signs to try to warn him about intruders.

_Shit, what the hell is he doing?_

---------

_'Last man standing'_. That sure was literal on his case.

In less than 5 minutes, pretty much all of the mafia members died, the few survivors were captured, and worse, he lost the notebook to the Japanese police. The only good point out of that was that now he was 'certain' Kira was working with the police. He saw them through the cameras, all armed to the teeth, including cameras and helmets to shield their faces from Shinigami eyes Mello no longer had. Snydar was dead, next to him in the monitor room. So he was alone and surrounded.

But Mello was far from being the surrendering-type. He had his last resorts, and even if those failed, he would rather die than be captured, which in truth would mean the same as dying; he wouldn't have a single more day with him captured and at disposition of Kira.

He exploded one of the bombs placed in the hideout in case of an emergency, as the present one was. Just to show those Japanese guys he wasn't joking around. He would at least get out of there with the notebook, or none of them would. All he demanded now was one of them, carrying the notebook and bringing it to him.

He had to laugh when he saw who the selected representative of the Japanese police was. None other than Yagami, carrying the notebook opened in his hands. Who would have guessed he would meet again with that guy so soon.

Soichiro couldn't help feeling the tiniest shock now that he had finally come face to face with Mello. He was just a child, even younger than his daughter Sayu. Despite surrounded by the corpses of his partners and with him being locked in a building with the police, he was siting in a rather relaxed way over the table on the far end of the room, holding a chocolate bar on one hand and a detonation switch on the other. His face was somewhat darken by the light of the screens behind him, but still Soichiro could see his cold blue eyes clearly. How could such a child have cause all those problems, killed so many people and threatned him for nearly a month?

Other than thinking about the chaotic society that had created such a spoiled child, Soichiro focused on something else, that was floating above Mello's head and only noticible to his new eyes.

"Mello..."

Yagami's eyes were wierdly fixed in him, but Mello didn't worry that much about it. That old guy was a wierd one anyways, with his stupid and exagerated obssession for justice, so it wasn't that strange he would stare at him like that. After all, to that guy he oughta be 'a spoiled child who was running a Mafia group and therefore defying justice' - he was like a parasite, killing the calm society Yagami -- and Kira -- were working for. It was simply so different from L, Mello couldn't quite explain how, but it was. Damn, those guys were so idiot.

However, what he said next was totally unexpected.

"Mihael Keehl. His real name is Mihael Keehl."

Mello's eyes went wide opened as he heard his name being said out loud, and a real, long lost shock took hold of him.

_Oh shit. Why?!_

How the hell could that have happened? Names nowadays were incredibly deadly weapons, specially against someone like Mello.

_Did they get it from Snydar?_, he wondered. Snydar had the Shinigami eyes after all, and he didn't like Mello in the first place... Either Snydar had tell them, or they had heard his name from somewhere else. Or maybe Snydar had been controled with the notebook? That'd explain how their hideout had been found twice. Which ever it was, Kira was behind it.

_Damn._

"Give up, Mello," Soichiro continued, though he pulled a pen and pressed it against the opened notebook. "If you stay and be arrested, we won't kill you. But if I write your name on this notebook, you die. Drop the switch and surrender."

There you go, an unreal idea of goodness. 'No matter the bad deeds, everyone reserves a second chance'? That should be that guy's idealization. As if Mello would survive after being captured, and _as if _he would allow himself to lose at such an extreme.

Mello had to smirk softly.

"I won't fall for such threats. If you try to write down my name, I'll press the switch." He spoke japanese as a mere reflection.

"Do it, then."

The blond's eyes widened in shock again. He really couldn't get this guy. Was everyone else completly crazy, or just him? Mello would go for the first one.

"I don't hold my life dear any more," Yagami said firmly. "If I sacrifice my life and you die, then that's my heart desire."

"Stop trying to be a hero, Yagami," Mello taunted. "You may be satisfied with that, but what about your men? You're going to sacrifice them too."

"They're my men. They're all prepared to face death. Give up, Mello," Yagami repeated, actually sounding close to saddened. "If you want to live, throw down the switch."

Mello stared at Yagami silently for some moments, and bit the remaining chocalate he had left.

That guy had something seriously wrong in him. He clearly did _not_ know with whom he was dealing with. No one knew what Mello was thinking and what action he would take, including himself, under extreme situations like that. He was, in the whole meaning of the word, unpredictable.

But Yagami wasn't. He realized it then, as he stared at the eyes of the man literally holding Mello's life on his hands. He couldn't do it.

"Yagami..." Mello started, swallowing his last piece of chocolate. "You have never killed anyone, have you?"

Yagami shuddered as he saw Mello move for his gun, and made a quick trace on the notebook.

"Don't move!" he threatened. "I only have to write your family name, and it will take me less than a second to do that!"

Mello simply glared at Yagami again, but then he noticed something behind the japanese man; one of the mafia corpses wasn't so dead. José had opened his eyes and stared back at Mello as if asking for an order. Mello wouldn't give one anyways, but he couldn't stop himself from addressing Yagami.

"You should have written my name nice and quick," he explained to a slightly confused Yagami. "Now that I have noticed it, you won't be able to do it anymore."

Yagami wouldn't have time to escape even if he had noticed it himself, anyway; José was quick. He picked up the automatic gun next to him even before Mello had finished talking, and fired against the japanese man countless times. Though he was carrying a bullet-proof vest, at least one burning bullet hit his neck, as Mello saw the wound start bleeding immediatly. He realized he really did not wish for that man's death, no matter how wierd he was. But he had joined Kira. That was going against L in his book.

"José, give me the notebook!" Mello demanded as soon as the older man hit the floor, hurrying to his side to pick up his helmet. He heard the other japanese policemen outside screaming; they heard the gunshots, they would break in, and he couldn't let his face be seen by anyone else.

Precisely when the doors burst open, José started cursing something, and Mello realized what it was when he saw the mafia man aim his gun to Soichiro's head. Yagami was still alive and must have been struggling to hold the notebook despite his injuries. The old man sure was stubborn.

Mello actually stood up and forgot the notebook when he understood he wasn't going to have it back. His mind seemed like it had frozen, processing the events at an alarming speed. Normally, that reaction would make his mind express a series of feelings attached with the alternatives to the situation, but Mello found, surprised for a moment, that it was totally blank. He lost the notebook and he lost the mafia members. The only thing he could lose now was his life.

The japanese men screamed again something he couldn't translate due to his frozen mind, and they shot the mafia man dead, though they didn't shoot Mello, and all guns aimed at his back.

"Give up, Mello! Throw down the switch", one of those guys, Mello didn't give the smallest damn who it was, ordered, and his mind did allow him the observation that those were men utterly naivety. Didn't they learn in the academy or something like that how to shoot suspects, at least to immobilize them?

It was frustrating and irritanting, but he would lose if he was caught by those guys. He would loose to Near, and to Kira. That would mean exactly the same as dying. He didn't really have a choice anymore, did he?

...did he EVER had a choice, to begin with?

Between winning or losing at a time like this... dying in jail with a mysterious heart attack at age 19 or dying there...

Honestly...? The answer appeared pretty clear on top of his previously blank mind.

Mello lifted the switch, and before any of the Japanese policemen could react, he pressed the button and Hell lightned the Earth.

**- End of Chapter 5 -**


	6. Halle Bullook

**CHAPTER 6:**

**HALLE BULLOOK**

_Author's Note:_ I'm sorry for the time taken to update. This chapter was going to be MASSIVE so I had to shorten it. I fear the next one will pay the debts though.

You seriously have NO IDEA how sad I was when writing this thing. I got a Mello-hit moment, I found LABB and reading first-person Mello... thinking about the end of this year, how things seem to end though they still continue and everyone hopes it'll be 'better' than it was the previous year... and what January means in the context of Death Note... I would have to wait until 2013 to fully experience Mello's last month paralel-experience (he's born in 1992 in the anime version, yay for the Universe showing me that I'm not completly crazy from one prespective), but just think it might all end in less than... 2 months, 1 month and 13 days to be exact, damn that hits me. Time and Death are seriously messed up themes in my book. The only thing that comes to my mind now is that I'm gonna die in a messed up way.

-uh sorry for this piece of crap, Death Note seriously gets into my mind, and no matter how much I like L, Beyond and Light, Mello simply gets into me.

Ahem, anyways, I realize the following part of the explosion and Halle's place may be similiar to other fics. Sorry if I agree with the views of those fanfictioners.

I apologize in advance for grammar mistakes and typos, please point out the ones you spot.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own Death Note.

* * *

_November 11th, 2009_

_Dammit_.

He was going to die here.

The bomb he set in the building was programmed to cause a serious blast, but if he was in the monitor room of the hideout, as he had been, that would give him better chances to live. It would give the same chances to the Japanese fully-equipped guys, anyways. But after leaving that room, he would still have to run through collapsing walls and flames, and Mello had to admit, he failed a little bit programming that part.

Well, Kira was to blame because of his surprise attack anyway.

His mind seemed to be stuck with those two words, 'Damn it', and kept repeating it over and over, as if he needed to be reminded of just how DAMNED he was.

If he didn't die there now, he was going to die when he got out. His real name was discovered. If Yagami survived all those shots, he was done for.

_'A face and a name, now that's just_ perfect_, Mihael'_, his annoying mind taunted him. If Mello had time to even breathe, he would kick his own head to shut it up.

He was supposed to be carrying a helmet. Yagami's helmet, where the hell was it? He doubted any camera would be able to capture his face in a situation like that, but he couldn't take chances. The real reason he was wondering, though, was because an excruciating painful heat covered the left side of his face, descending towards his back, and he was afraid to check how badly-injured he was, though he couldn't even remember how he got hurt. He had just been running, but he was sure he _was_ pretty injured, because he could feel something like blood over his skin, and no matter how much he tried to resist it, the smoke around him, the infernal smashing heat and the deadly burns on his body were taking his strength away too fast.

Was he going to die there because of the smoke? Or worse, burned alive? Damn, he didn't want to die in a fire, nor he even wanted to be cremated after death; Death might be a familiar idea to him, but that didn't mean he wanted to die. Specially not there.

Again, he lost balance due to the heat, blood loss and the smoke and fell on his knees, unable to lift himself up again. He coughed, trying to breathe some oxygen between all the flames that surrounded him, and as expected, it only made the situation worse, since he inhalated more smoke than before. He found enough strength to touch his burning face when the wound convulsed like a dying animal, and had to scream out of pain as his gloved hand came in contact with burned skin covered in blood, which he couldn't understand where had come from. He felt a strange panic grow inside his chest and he tried to crawl (since he couldn't stand up) away from there. He was close to an exit, he was sure of it; dammit, it was so irritating that his strength was vanishing mere feets away from exiting the inferno. But it was. His head seemed like it was floating above his neck, and his eyes started to see nothing but black shapes in an already-blurred surroundings.

At least his subconsciousness wasn't bothering him with the obvious now. Guess it was chocking in the smoke as well.

_Mello!_

_Yo, Mello?_

Maybe dying wasn't so bad. What did he had in his life to miss after he was gone, anyways? If he was dead, there was nothing he could miss anymore. But leaving that fact aside, he could leave his childhood memories where they belonged, in the past. They didn't affect him in his current life. What did affect him? L, Kira, _Near_. What the hell did he want to return to if he got out of there? He would lose anyway. He would get hurt over and over again, and only to lose in the end. Why would anyone wish to return to that pain when you were given the chance to be freed of it all?

"Mello!"

_What the fuck_, no way. Everyone suffers in life, that's what makes it a life. Random happiness with major suffering. So what? He had a goal, he had several goals: it began with becoming L. Than surpassing L. Than surpassing Near so he could get to L. Than catching Kira so he could proove himself over Near. Why would he die before he got that? So what if he had to suffer for that, 'that was his life' and he wanted to see those things materialized.

Mello wasn't sure if he was dead already, fainted, or still conscious, but he guessed he still had some senses in him because he felt something over his shoulders, something that felt like hands. Could it be that Shinigami took the effort to take every soul with them personally? Maybe only the bad ones. Damn, it was just like Ross said, if you believe in a killing notebook, nothing else surprises you anymore.

But maybe it wasn't a Shinigami after all. Since when did Shinigami have red hair and goggles in their face?

"Mello!" an unnecessary high pitched scream echoed above him, forcing Mello to fight to open his eyes enough to get a clear picture of the person holding him.

"...Matt?"

"Hey, Mello, since when do you play with matches?" Matt asked almost cheerfully, despite the situation they were in. If Mello was fully on control of his mind, he could have guessed Matt was trying to relax to keep Mello and himself out of panic most people would be driven by the simple fact of being surrounded by flames, let alone injured like Mello was. Matt's mind had strange work methods sometimes. He was wearing his goggles, so it was impossible to detect the real worry that tainted them as he saw Mello's face and body.

"We have to get outta here," the red-haired continued, trying to lift Mello off the ground, but he involuntarly touched his back, forcing the blond to scream in pain. "Sorry! Sorry, Mello, you're... Damn, you're bleeding!"

Perhaps Matt was now replacing his subconsciouness with the obvious citations.

"Don't you have anywhere to go? Anywhere you can stay? You know I can't treat a fingercut properly, let alone..."

"New York," Mello gasped, trying to walk using Matt as a support, but his legs definatly were dying on him.

Matt stopped on his tracks from surprise, and Mello to nearly fell to the ground again after all the effort to just be able to stand.

"You've gotta be kidding me... New York, with you like this? Stop joking around. Here I thought you would get all serious in a life-or-death situation..."

Mello wished he could beat up Matt until be had broken those goggles of his, but he couldn't move, and that floating-sensation on his head must have been a sign that he was losing his conscious fast. Still, something in his eyes might have alerted Matt to his previous thoughts, because the younger boy froze.

"New York, man? Where in the Apple, then? It's a pretty big city, you know! Tell me, before you faint!"

What a hell of a friend...

"I'm gonna... break your... face..."

"That's not a place I know of in NY, Mello. And we're in the middle of a fire, in case you haven't notice, we need to get out of here quick!"

"Halle..."

"What?" Matt tried to listen to Mello's half-whispering voice between the raging flames, which wasn't a very easy task, but he needed to know where to go with someone that couldn't go into a hospital. Matt knew what Mello had been up to the past years, and realizing he belong to a mafia gang only confirmed the fact that a hospital was completly out of the question.

"Linder... Bullook, she..." Mello managed to spell, shamefully losing his consciousness to his injuries.

"Nice, Halle-something-or-something," Matt repeated, actually half-sarcastically. He didn't know why, he was supposed to be the least panicked for being inside a burning building. "Ok, than let's get you outta here, ok? Come on, put your arm over my shoulder, I can't carry you otherwise."

----------

_Several hours later_

It shouldn't be even close to dawn when someone started knocking like crazy at Halle's door. At first, obviously, she thought she was dreaming (was it 4, 5, 6 AM?), but that furious - or rather, desperated - knocking finally made her jump out of her bed as if she was hit by an electric shock. Halle was still drowzy, but her body was more than familiar with those adrenaline shocks.

The first thing she did was picking her gun, but she didn't take time to carefully approach the door in the extreme of her house. The knocking didn't cease a single time since it started, and if any Kira supporter maniac had found out who she was, they wouldn't be stupid enough to make such a fuss. It was going to wake up the neighbours in no time.

Halle didn't peeked through the peephole, so there was nothing that could have prepared her for what she saw when she opened her main door, with her gun shut in her hand and pointing to the outsider's head. Only it wasn't just one outsider, and not just _any_ outsider.

A boy, a teenager, with red hair and disporportional goggles in his face despite the still-night time, stared back at her, actually not minding the gun pointed at him. He was already expecting that from a cop, anyways. He was gasping for air not because of the gun aimed at his head, but because of his four minute non-stop knocking, and because of the dead weight against his right shoulder.

Halle nearly dropped her gun, but fortunatly her hand seemed like it was glued to the it. However, she couldn't stop her arm from failing against her leg as the strength in that member dissolved in shock.

_Mello._

"Halle Linder? Or Bullook, I dun..." the red-haired asked, but he didn't got the chance to finish his sentence.

"Come inside!" Halle ordered immediatly, and grabbed the boy by his waistcoat, pulling him to her house and closing the door sonorously behind her, not minding the time one bit.

Mello... what happened...?

"What happened?" her mind forced her thoughts to become aloud.

"Uh, there was an explosion," the boy explained vaguely, recovering from her sudden action towards him very fast, and he layed Mello on Halle's couch.

"Explosion?" she repeated in shock.

"Yeah, but he's not dead... he wasn't last time I checked..." the red-haired seemed like he was apologizing, though Halle didn't know nor really cared why he would.

Perhaps it was because she was so distressed and he might have been the cause of it, or perhaps because of his own lack of responsability... Truth was, Halle didn't care the leastest bit.

Halle kneeled next to her couch and quickly scanned the injured blond boy in front of her. He was unconscious, there wasn't a single doubt about it, but he was breathing. One could wonder how such a thin boy as the red-haired could have been able to carry him from wherever it might have been all by himself, but Halle didn't even have time to think about that, or about having an unknown person inside her house, or about having a criminal unconscious on her living-room couch. Her mind blocked when she saw Mello hanging motionless over the shoulder of someone else.

"Please, get me my med-kit, it's in the bathroom," Halle instructed harshly, and the younger boy nodded without a single comment, disappearing to where he must have thought the bathroom was.

Mello's face was roughly bandaged, probably handmade by the red-haired boy, and so was his head, the latter where his white bandage had gone red with blood that scared Halle more than anything had in the past years she could remember.

Just what the hell had happened? She couldn't really picture an accident happening that didn't have to do with Kira. Mello was in the Mafia, bad stuff could happen to a person dealing with true criminals, but by some reason, being involved in the Kira case seemed to blame the killer for every misfortune it might occur in everyone's life; but Halle was sure it had something to do with him. But Near didn't report anything to her nor Rester, otherwise she would not even be at home now. If anything in the Kira case had been so significant as to cause an 'explosion', Near would have heard of it. Then what...

"I'm not much of a med-type of guy," the red-haired boy pierced through her thoughts and made her jump from her seat. "He was bleeding from his head, I guess he might have hit it somewhere, and his face was visible, so I had to at least cover that, but I'm not..."

It was Halle's turn to interrupt the boy as she took the first aid kit from his hands and quickly opened it, taking out some new bandages and alcohol.

"What's your name?" she managed to ask in her hurry. She was really going to need the boy's help here; Halle wasn't a nurse herself either. So at least she should know the kid's name.

"Matt," he replied, kneeling next to her and taking Mello's clearly stolen coat carefully. "I'm sorry I came into your house like this, but I couldn't take him to a hospital, and he asked to come to you before he fainted, so I..."

"He asked to be brought here?" Halle asked, sincerelly surprised.

"Yeah, we were in LA, but he said to come here, so I did. I wouldn't be able to treat him alone anyways."

Halle forced herself to snap out of her surprise so she could focus on Mello's treatment. However, her stomach seemed to turn everytime she looked at the blond more attentively, only to see deeper damage in him. As soon as she moved to his face, she realized she was right.

The bandage was attached to his skin in a way that could only happen if the skin bellow was really damaged. As Halle's mind reminded her of the concept wounds of an explosion, she uncovered the left side of blond child and she gasped at what she saw.

His skin was melted. The red burned flesh was exposed in a way it was never supposed to be, and it wasn't just focused on his face. When her light-amber eyes allowed her to look away from his face, Halle followed a trail of burned skin all the way down to his shoulder, meaning it probably descended lower to his back and off her view. That was going to leave a life-time scar on him.

Matt moved uncomfortably next to her, and if she had looked to him, she would have seen his closed blue eyes to avoid the sight of his injured friend. He had removed his goggles, so the rare event of showing his eyes was now exposed.

"He's always been like this. He puts himself into his goals like no one else does because they're sane, and he always gets hurt in the process," he sighed, and he slowly slid the zipper of the leather waistcoat, but a new problem surfaced as soon as he uncovered Mello's slim chest and layed him against the soft coach. "I... the leather is glued to his back. I saw it back then, but I knew I couldn't pull it out without making more damage, so at least I covered it with the coat..."

Halle didn't know she had the stomach to assist all that. The truth was, medical affairs had always sicken her. And right now, seeing such a young boy as Mello in such a state as he was, she would have guess she would vomit. But she didn't. Somehow, she found a strength she didn't know she had as she now stared at the his burned back, a wound descending from his shoulder to the middle of his back as she thought it would. It was definatly a more serious burn than the one in his face, and that was saying a lot.

They had to treat him with what they got there. Hospital was out of the question, so they really had to work hard to do a proper job. Halle and Matt managed to separate the waistcoat from Mello's flesh in a way it would have been excrutiating painful if he was awaken, but at least he wasn't. Halle did the bandages after Matt disinfected them carefully, but she did the whole process herself when it came to his face.

Halle realized Mello looked like an angel. A fallen angel would be the most correct term, but anyway, his face and his hair gave him a sort of enlighted aura. Sure; it was only figuratively speaking. Mello was threatning her life out of information. But she realized at that precise moment that that didn't mean anything to her. The aura was shattered, he was bleeding and he was injured, and the only thing that crossed her mind when she saw Matt carrying him was that she needed to help him.

Mello was really getting into her. A criminal, a presumptuous little mafioso kid was getting into her like no one, no _man_ was supposed to.

"I searched for your address on the net," Matt said, interrupting her thoughts and the eerie silence that had submerged the room while and after the long treating process of Mello's wounds. "I didn't find anything on 'Halle Bullook', so I went to 'Halle Linder'... one'd think Near wouldn't have info of his employees on their real name, but I guess he does..."

"You know Near?" she asked, though her surprise vanished moments after. Perhaps that was what was off with this sweet kid. Maybe he was from that instute in England too.

"Yeah, we were kinda raised in the same place," he confirmed it. "Me, Mello and Near. I suppose you know that, even if not, I don't think it's a so relevant information..."

"Matt," Halle thought it was time to pull the newly started conversation to where she wanted. "What happened to him?"

"I watched from a distance," Matt explained simply. "If you work with Near, than I'm sure you know... what Mello's been doing lately. The Mafia and all, they're based in L.A., or were. Anyways, I saw some guys, looked like police, a lot of guns and all, lots of screams coming from the hideout I knew Mello was in. I wasn't gonna show myself, so I kept watching. I dunno what happened in there, but things must have gone bad by some reason. The whole place exploded all of a sudden, and I had to wait until I saw the police guys leaving the building so I could go in, believe me, I have sharp eyes and I didn't see Mello's head out of that place, so I feared he was still inside. I went looking for him, and I found him like that."

"The Japanese police found the hideout? Near doesn't know about that."

"Don't ask me. I've been spying on Mello, not Near."

"How and why did you get here?"

"I told you, Mello wanted to come here. As for means, would you believe me if I said we flew here?"

"I wouldn't, except for knowning that coming from L.A. to New York by other mean than plane wouldn't be fast enough to keep him alive. Though I'm pretty surprised that someone allowed you to be aboard a plain with such a badly-injured person like him."

"...You don't wanna know that part."

Halle smiled slightly. Matt was a very curious boy. He had a goofy-like sweetness to him. However, it was also noted that he was no dumbass; after all, if he had been raised in Wammy's House, he was actually a genius.

"I'm sorry, miss Linder, or Bullook, I..."

"Don't call me 'miss'," Halle asked, again smiling. "Halle is fine."

"Okay, Halle. I, uh, I don't know how you know Mello, but..."

"He was threatning me for information," Halle replied instictively, and she saw Matt's expression grow darker as if in fear. Perhaps he thought she was Mello's friend, someone whom an injured person could be trusted. But if she had been merely blackmailed, then they were in trouble. Halle was able to read all that from his blue eyes. "But don't worry. I won't toss neither of you to the street."

"What about Near? They're rivals, and if what I checked is true, than they're really on opposite sides on this Kira struggle."

"I won't say a word to Near," Halle promised. "You and him can stay here until he's recovered."

"...thanks."

"You're welcome."

It was Matt's turn to smile softly in relief. The boy might need some sleep, she noticed.

Before any of them could say something, Halle's phone rang in her room, and she quickly went to pick it up.

"Halle?" Rester's voice was unmistakable, and she was pretty sure she already knew what he was going to tell her. "Sorry to call at this time, but something happened. Yagami Soichiro, from L's Japanese team, died."

Halle felt a sudden blow in her chest, similar to when she had seen Mello at her doorstep. She never met the Japanese man, but she grew to respect him throughout the exchange of his daughter for the notebook with Mello.

Did Mello...?

"Halle?"

"Yes, I'm going to the HQ," she replied, and hang up the call.

"Something's wrong?" Matt asked some moments later, when she appeared from her room fully dressed.

"I need to go to Near," Halle answered, but she quickly added when she saw Matt's eyes widening again. "But it has nothing to do with Mello... well, maybe it has, but

I'm not going to tell Near about him. Don't worry."

"Okay."

"Get some sleep if you want to," Halle recommended. "I won't be back until later, and no one comes around my place."

"Okay."

"Well then, uh..." Halle moved her eyes to the still unconscious Mello, and sighed silently. "Call me or something... tell me something in case he wakes up, alright?"

"Sure."

Halle nodded, picked her home keys and fixed her coat to the dawn cold wind, closing her door quietly behind her.

_- End of Chapter 6 -_

* * *

Happy birthday, Mello.


	7. Manca, Zlatko & Andrej Keehl

**CHAPTER 7**

**MANCA, ZLATKO & ANDREJ KEEHL**

_Author's Note:_ This chapter is a flashback of Mello's childhood. This was only going to appear in a future chapter in late January, but I figured that because of size and date issues, it had to be now.

Warnings: I don't like Christmas. I finally realized I hate it, and why. And I'm not a very christian person either. This chapter has some minor swearing to that area, but it's not enough to burn your eyes and mind I think. In case you are offended by it, you are free not to read. I think the domestic violence themes are much more affecting.

Thanks to Mannryu from Youtube for her help with Slovenian names.

**DISCLAIMER:** I guess I own something in this more than in other chapters, since Mello's family are my creation. But I still don't own Death Note.

* * *

_December 18th, 1994_

_It wasn't raining on that day, but the cold was as thick as a blade. Even with a very fluffy and harm coat, Mihael couldn't help trembling in freezing weather, though he realized he really loved the snow, so he jumped in happiness as he crushed the snow beneath his feet over and over again. His equally matching harm cap hid his glowing blond hair, but random locks peeked beneath it, framing his 5-year-old beautiful angel-like face._

_"Mihael! Don't wonder too far!"_

_Mihael stopped in his tracks as he heard his mother, and turned around to see the most beautiful woman he had ever seen appear behind him. She had the same blond and silky hair as her son, also framing her facial features like an old and famous movie star, slightly curved in the bottom and all. Mihael had always found it so lovely, he wished he could do the same thing with his own, but obviously his father always forbade such a thing. That was something a sissy would do after all._

_The angelic azure eyes of the child gazed through the shops around him through which he now walked hand-in-hand with his mother, avid for all sorts of expensive toys they would never be able to afford. However, it wasn't a toy that really caught his attention ultimately, it was a beautiful necklace displayed in a jewellery showcase. It didn't seem expensive at all, and had many little pearls in it, descending into a silver cross with an image Mihael recognized from his mother's strange devotion to God. Strange because, as his father said, his mother both praised as cursed God. But Mihael couldn't speak about that._

_"...can you give me that necklace, mom?"_

_"Oh? That's not a necklace, or at least not any necklace, Miha. That's a rosary. Like the one we have on our car, remember?"_

_"Rosary..."_

_"Manca, Zlatko is crying."_

_Mihael had heard his baby brother sooner than he heard his father. A very tall man, thin but still strong, with a metallic tone of brown hair and blue eyes, appeared carrying a baby wrapped in a blanket on his arms. Though he was holding the baby near his chest, something in the way he did made it seem he wanted to keep the small child as far from him as possible. Or maybe Mihael was the only one that saw it that way._

_"Can't you give him something to eat? He's your son, too, and I'm buying something to Mihael."_

_"We don't have time to buy things now. There's still some days to Christmas yet."_

_"Yeah, but in case you've forgotten, your son's _birthday_ was last Tuesday."_

_"You're trying to buy his vote to your Mother-of-the-Year campaign, now?"_

_"Give me a BREAK! Here, Mihael, I'll buy it to you."_

_"Thank you!"_

_"A crucifix's not something you oughta wear like that, you know? It has a meaning, bitch."_

_"Don't you _call_ me that again, you son of a bitch!"_

_"I don't wanna start arguing here."_

_"Great, than don't. Let's buy that rosary to you, Miha. But keep it safe, okay? Don't lose it."_

_"I won't, mom."_

_His mother disappeared to the store, leaving Mihael and Zlakto with their father, whose patience was visibly reaching its limit. Mihael feared a scene would start when his parents cursed each other, but they always controlled themselves in public. Anyway, he could tell his father was angry because his jaw always hardened and he tapped his foot when he was beginning to feel irritated. So Mihael decided to ask carefully._

_"You don't like rosaries, dad?"_

_"They're cool I guess, but they're religious symbols, its not something to play with. It's not a toy," Andrej replied harshly, roughly changing the baby into a more comfortable position to him._

_"Can't you use them without being a religious person?"_

_"I guess..."_

_Soon, Manca re-appeared from the store, carrying the beautiful necklace with her._

_"Here you go, Mihael," she smiled to the radiant look on the child's face and allowed the rosary to slid through his head to his neck. "You look beautiful! Ask your father if he likes."_

_"I can hear you, Manca. Yeah, it's nice. Now let's go, I'm tired of hearing this damn baby crying."_

_"You haven't drink enough today yet, Andrej, is that why you're so annoying?"_

_Mihael's happiness faded too fast when his mother said that only to annoy his father even more, and he knew things weren't going to be good as soon as they arrived home, or even sooner, if his father broke before that. He only wished he could take his baby brother from his father's arms to keep him safe, or at least, as safe as a child like himself could._

_----------_

_He really hated screams. They made him feel scared. As if something bad could happen suddenly, though, truth to be told, something bad was constantly happening around there. So screams were always around there._

_His father drank. A lot. And emotions tend to surface rather harshly when you're drunk, which happened with his father. But he supposed his father only had bad emotions in him, because those were the only ones he let surface._

_His mother took a lot of pills, that Mihael knew were anti-depressives though she had never told him. Both his parents didn't really notice that he was capable of doing a lot of things boys of his age couldn't, like reading, but Mihael didn't wanted to bother them with that._ _They had enough problems already to worry about, like money and alcohol, they didn't need a kid who could do things he wasn't supposed to._

_Even his brother. His parents were going to break up when Zlatko was conceived. That sort of thing happened a lot in disfunctional couples, Mihael knew. He read it once, somewhere. His father didn't know about it until his mother was four months pregnant, and he discovered it by an accident with one of Manca's friends slipping that information. Even Mihael got hit on that day, his father locked him in the bathroom with the lights off, forcing him to silently sob unless he wanted to be beaten again. Ever since that day, his mother said his eyes went strange when he was quiet for too long, like he was hypnotized or something._

_Because of that particular incident, his father didn't like Zlatko very much. And actually, neither his mother did, but reasons for that were unknown. Only Mihael truly cared for his little brother. He was very sweet, he barely cried unless there was screams around him, and he always smiled to Mihael. So Mihael smiled back at him. And he tried to protect his brother. As soon as the screams started, he tried to escape them with Zlatko, but he wasn't always successful, as it happened today. Before he could notice it, his mother's lips were bleeding, his father was yelling, his brother started screaming and Mihael got slapped to prevent the baby to be hurt._

_Even at night there were screams. He couldn't sleep because of his parents screams, his mother's cries and his father's cursing, and he couldn't sleep because Zlakto couldn't sleep either._

_Once, a social assistant came into their house after his mother called the police. His father had broken her arm, he had beaten Mihael too and actually threatned to let Zlakto fall from a third floor window. Andrej was arrested for only two days, after which he was actually sent back home despite all the evidences of domestic violence. Mihael didn't understood why they would do something like that, but he did remember hearing the social assistant superiorly stating that a family like the one they had would eventually destroy itself one way or another._

_----------_

_December 25th, 1994_

_"Would you shut up that fucking baby?!"_

_"He's your son as well, why don't you shut him up instead of just ordering around?"_

_They were in his father's car, driving back to home after they had gone shopping. Because it was Christmas, almost all shops were closed, so they had to drive to a somewhat far supermarket so they could go buy food and drinks. It was starting to snow, but Mihael didn't have time to look at it with a growing fight in the front seats._

_"Mihael, shut your fucking brother up."_

_"Stop talking to your sons that way! You want them to grow up saying those words around like you do?"_

_"What're people gonna do to me, or to them, put us in jail for swearing?"_

_Mihael kneeled next to his little brother's chair, where the small baby screamed and twitched harshly, his happy eyes now closed and stuffed with tears._

_"Shh, Zlatko... It's alright, don't cry..."_

_"Stop annoying me, woman," Andrej cursed, starting to honk at the random drivers he found on the road._

_"Don't you start that again..." Manca was now massaging her temples, a bruise still visible on her left cheek._

_"I'm trying to get us home on Christmas fucking day, would you just shut up, at least today?!"_

_"Oh yeah SURE, now I'm the bad one parent here, right Andrej? As always, I'm the bad mother while you're the good father, right?"_

_"...can you stop that?" Mihael tried quietly. "Zlatko cries more if you scream..."_

_"Shut the hell up, Mihael!"_

_"Damn it, here's the proof God doesn't exist... not even on this damn day we can be together without fighting!"_

_"You're the one that bought that thing to the kid, you're the one that wants to have this cross dangling here, you're the one who "prays" at night, and now you blame God for your personality? You can't even pick your fucking mind. Leave the Guy alone up there, just shut the fuck up."_

_"I'm tired having you speak with me like that! You've been pushing your luck too much!"_

_"Just shut the fuck up, bitch!"_

_"You can't even live alone for yourself, you need my money to keep this damn car and those damn drinks of yours, I'm THROUGH! You'll really regret this someday, Andrej, when you've lost both me and your sons!"_

_"Oh, and I suppose YOU are able to raise these kids alone, Manca? You can't even educate them properly, you don't care about them, you anti-depressive addicted!"_

_"I'm SO sick of you, you son of a...! Pull over! NOW!"_

_"What, you wanna go out here with two kids while it's snowing?"_

_"Let me out now!"_

_A heavy thud echoed through the car as his mother head went colliding with the window beside her, and his father took his eyes off the road for an instant._

_"Shut the HELL..."_

_After that, there weren't any more words said, only screams. Different from angry and furious screams, they were scared and painful screams A truck accidently hit their car with such a violence that it rolled over itself on the snow for several metres, hitting a snowy tree in the process and finally stopping. The truck also fell to its side, and the gasoline deposit blew up moments later, causing a massive explosion that didn't caught the car by mere inches. There was no other sound beside that of the truck's cracking flames for more than an hour. Finally, a peaceful silence, without screams. His father didn't scream, his mother didn't scream, his brother didn't scream._

_That was the only time in his life he wished he could hear screams again. Those screams, apparently, were the only way his family knew to demonstrate they were alive. But there was silence now. And they never screamed again._

_That was the first time Mihael was really scared. Because he felt he was alone, though his family, his damaged and aggressive but still _his_ family, the only he had and the only he cared about, was next to him in the car._

_When the police and ambulances finally arrived, finding nothing more than a cremated body in the truck, the body of a woman outside the vihacle she was sitting, a deceased one-year-old child and a severally injuried man that died shortly later from blood loss, they all thanked the heavens when they found a 5-year-old boy with minor injuries to his head and arm. 'It had been a miracle', was the word around. Archangel Michael protected the child that had inherited his name. He was even found with a rosary around his neck._

_Truly a miracle._

---------

_Yeah, right. Look where that miracle got me into._

That was the only thing he could think when he woke up in Halle's apartment fourteen years later and saw the irreparable damage he had done to his body and to his life.

**- End of Chapter 7 -**

* * *

_Author's Note:_ 1 - I don't like social assistants. 95% of them are bad, annoying and have a superiority complex;

2 - The case of fathers threatning to let babies fall from windows is based on a case that I know about;

3 - Normally and in a stereotyped version for these sorta situations, children are locked in closets. I was locked in a bathroom with the lights out once when I was like 5 years old and I still have it engarved in my mind, so I know you don't need to be in a confined space to be scared and having it get into you;

3.1 - If you remember from both the original Death Note aspect of Mello and Matt's comment back in chapter 3, he said that Mello gets a creepy look when he thinks too much because he doesn't blink. That comes from this particular day.


	8. Mail Jeevas

**CHAPTER 8**

**MAIL JEEVAS**

_Author's Note:_ *sigh* F**k. This chapter is gonna suck, why? Because. It's big, rushed because was made in a rush mood. When I make scheduals, I'm supposed to keep them. Damn me.

...3 days. What if everything ended in 3 days? I guess we're still within schedual for that.

Finished listening to Emilie Autumn's song "Misery Loves Company", specially the 'Pray for me' part.

**DISCLAIMER:** I, HoshisamaValmor and all my other f**king alias, don't own Death Note nor Mello. I just find him so sad.

* * *

_November 13th, 2009_

Both of them knew Mello's awakening would be bad. And he had awaken just one day after he endured all his injuries. That was a good sign, a very good sign. But that didn't obviously mean Mello's mood would be as good as the very fact of his awakening was.

"What the fuck happened? Why am I in your house? W-Where the hell am I?"

"New York. If you're here, there must be a reason, right?" Halle replied, half annoyed.

"You said it," Matt supported Halle, though his tone was a lot more softer than Halle's. The agent could sense the red-haired boy's real worry for Mello, as she could feel the blond's obliviousness towards those feelings. It was kind of sad that Matt cared so much for Mello and Mello barely noticed it. "You were the one that said to come here. I know, you really must have hit your head pretty hard, but I didn't have anywhere else to go, so..."

Mello stared at Matt for some moments as he processed what he and Halle had said. His head was still a bit foggy from what had exactly happened after the explosion. To be realistic, why else would Matt have made the unthinkable travel from L.A. to New York with a criminal unless the criminal himself had said so? Matt didn't even know Halle, so that meant it really had been him, Mello, to say her address or at least pointing New York out. Why would he do something like that...?

"It's a miracle you're alive, you know that?" Halle protested, as if trying to put sense into his head, but that argument wasn't really the best one she could have chosen.

Mello wouldn't really truely value the fact he was alive if being alive meant to have lost to his enemies and to Near, as she was now pretty certain it had been the reason why the hideout had exploded. Halle already knew through Near, who knew through L, that Mello had been indeed the one who triggered the explosion that killed Yagami Soichiro and nearly killed himself too. At that moment, he must have seen his defeat, enough to make him cause the explosion himself.

However, pulling that subject forcefully meant pulling something else up. Mello realized he was laying on his right side and with his bare chest exposed, though covered in bandages, and he finally noticed that the thing blocking his left eye wasn't his hair. He moved too harshly without realizing the extend of his injuries, and as soon as he tried to sit, he grunted with the pain that jolted through his back to his chest and to his head, to which Matt shivered in discomfort. Halle moved on instict too, but she didn't touch Mello, nor would he allow such, she was sure.

It took a few more moments for Mello to catch his breath and look at his bandaged chest, the bandages encircling him so they could safetly protect the damaged skin of his back. Then, very slowly, he lifted his hand towards his face, and just like a déjà vu sequence, the same moviment he did while inside that inferno appeared in his mind, making him stop before he touched his skin with his hand now freed from gloves. Almost mechanically, he raised his head to Matt and Halle and saw their expressions, both a mixture of feelings like worry, sadness and fear.

Matt's eyes simply couldn't lie, that was why he kept them always hidden behind his goggles. Unlike everyone else in the world, Matt couldn't lie. That could even cost him his life someday. Lying or hiding something was too often crucial for one's survival, and that was present in Halle's expression, more controlled than Matt's but still tainted with those feelings that made Mello's heart shudder.

"What happened to my face?"

----------

_November 15th, 2009_

Strangely enough, Mello still hadn't gone away from her house. From one point of view, that was good, but from another, strange. Obviously, an injured person would elect to stay in a safe place while he recovered, but Mello wasn't _any_ injured person, and he was someone Halle would have expected to have left as soon as he could stand up on his own. However, he didn't. By consequence, Matt was still hanging around too, actually curlying himself in a sweet ball-like fetal position over her carpet next to the couch where Mello slept just like a devoted cat.

But Halle couldn't lie to herself on that matter; she didn't mind one bit that both boys remained in her place, specially Mello. At least that way she could ensure he was safe and his wounds were getting treated. It was inevitable to think, though, that she was getting completely mental. She was keeping her boss's enemy of sorts, a criminal wanted for murder, in her own house.

And she couldn't care less for anything but his safety.

Halle sighed as she prepared her tea. Matt had got out to buy smokes and chocolate to Mello, while the blond was sitting in her living room, completely immersed in the information on the documents she had provided him. The aura that poured out of him was more then enough to make people understand there was a lot more into him that it might seem at first. He was not any violent teenager, any medium inteligent person. Wammy's House did indeed give a special touch to its children; the aura was very similar to Near's.

The agent sat on the couch in front of Mello, slowly drinking her tea. Mello refused one for him, and though she figured it could at least warm him up, she still hadn't prepared it.

Mello was recovering rather well and fast for someone carrying his injuries, but he was half-burried in painkillers and he didn't allow himself to show exactly how much in pain he was. She still knew, though, that he was in pain no matter how many painkillers he took, and that pain was beyond the physical one.

As Halle was staring at Mello and at the burned skin on the left side of his face, unbandaged by him but still covered by his hair, she noticed something.

Mello seemed older. _A lot_ older. She had seen that picture Near had of him when Mello was around 14, and in general, his looks hadn't change much from that age to his current one. But now, he seemed like he had got a lot older from a single day than he had throughout his entire life. His hair wasn't as straightly brushed as before, now it was messy, which destroyed his previous androgynous look. His eyes had gone colder, if that was possible, and finally, his beautiful and young face was darken with the somewhat-serious burn on his left side, that descended towards his back. Though fortunately it wasn't a very serious burn as the one on his back was, it was inevitable that it would disfigure him, even if it was the slightest bit. That sarcastic and constant smirk of his was also gone, and for a moment, Halle felt a cold shiver run through her back.

It was like looking to a war child. A broken, damaged, scarred war child. It was... sad.

"Is this really everything Near has?" Mello questioned, unaware of her thoughts.

"Pretty much. Some files I am simply not allowed to touch."

Mello didn't even bother raising his head to her, and fell silent once again. Halle continued to look at him while she finished her tea, but after a while she separated her lips as if to say something. However, she stopped herself before any sound escaped through them. She felt like she would be bothering him in his concentration. So she ought to remain silent.

As the silence spreaded between them, Halle caught herself thinking about the younger boy, Matt. From the times they had chat while Mello was still unconcious, she learned a little about him, and how he had endeavored himself into that whole story only to keep an eye on Mello.

"So, what's Matt to you?" she asked, calmly. "Is he your brother, or just a friend?"

"My younger brother died when I was 5," Mello replied, almost mechanically and without much thinking. "So no, he's not my brother."

The harsh answer hit Halle aback for some moments, but she pulled herself together again.

"I'm sorry about that."

"Yeah," either Mello was too focused on the reports he was reading, or he didn't cared a lot about that subject. Rather, it was more he didn't often think about it.

After all, Mello was an orphan, Halle recalled. He must have a sinister past somewhere in his life.

"So, what about that rosary of yours? You don't really look like a devoted catholic, you know."

"My mother gave it to me. One week later, she was dead, along with my father and my brother, on Christmas fucking day."

"Oh," Halle said, sitting opposite to Mello. "What happened?"

"Tired truck driver and arguing couple. Result: four dead people and an injured kid."

"Did you learn all that cursing you say from your parents?" that question just popped in her mind out of nowhere, and she quite surprised herself to think of something so irrelevant at a time like that. Mello definatly had that effect on her; she recalled their first encounter where she might have been high on drugs to be so anesthetized.

"Kinda. My father said those a lot."

Halle decided to let that conversation die out. Mello had just given her enough information to find out his true identity if she wanted to, but it didn't seem he had even noticed it. Then, finally, he snapped.

"Hold on. Why the fuck did I just said all this to you?"

Mello looked at her with that glare of his, like he was blaming her for his revelations, but somehow, it just seemed so much colder and dangerous than before. Halle had to fight a slight surprise and intimidation feeling out of her expression, and instead, tried to look relaxed. It was a lot harder than it had been before the explosion.

"Don't look at me that way, I didn't aim a gun at your head," she replied, sounding half-offended. Again, that motherly feeling of hers over Mello appeared in her mind. "That's often _your_ persuasion method to do things."

Mello gave a small «hmph», although it didn't sound as ironic as the ones he used to give before, and lifted his feet over her table to annoy her. Though she _would_ be annoyed in some other ocasion, currently, she wasn't.

"Since you made me say all those things, let's do a _quid per quo_ then."

Halle laughed.

"_I_ made you say those things? You're supposed to be the heartless ex-leader of the Mafia who's keeping me alive out for information, how could a simple and harmless SPK agent like me be able to put pressure on you?"

Mello took only a second to understand Halle was tauting him for speaking in a contradictory way, and tried to clear up things.

"You... I don't... damn you, woman. Trying to confuse me won't work for you."

Halle had to laugh again, this time more teasing-like. Mello was really a child; a child armed with guns and chocolates, and with some sort of darker background for his actions, but still, a child.

"Stop laughing of me!" he demanded, again in that angried and offended child-like way. However, he _was_ a child armed with a gun, and he pulled it out. "Stop it if you don't wanna get shot."

"As you wish," she struggled not to add a teasing 'Mafia-lord'. "What do you want to know about me then?"

If it had been the first time they met, Mello would seemed very happy that he prooved his superiority over her by shuting her up, but this time, that burned face expressed no emotion whatsoever. He lowered the gun, though he kept his hand tightly closed around it.

"Why're you with Near? Against Kira and all?"

"A relative of mine was killed when Higuchi was Kira," Halle replied, leaning against the couch. "And I didn't agree with..."

"How close was that person to you?" Mello asked before she could proceed.

Halle remained silent for a moment, but Mello didn't bother lifting his eyes from the sheets to see what bothered her.

"He was my fiancé," she explained calmly.

"Such a Romeo and Juliet-like story," Mello ironized with a cold tone, still reading the information without looking at Halle. "Why was he killed?"

"He was a director of a rival enterprise to Yotsuba."

"Your fiancé worked in a company in Japan?" Mello repeated, disbelievingly, and he snorted. "Liar."

---------

December 13th, 2009

A young blond boy was staring the camera with a half-smile, and a pretty sarcastic one at that. Mello had always carried that smile, he guessed. It really looked like him, now he was looking at it again after four years. But that was when he _still_ smiled. Back when that photograph was taken, he still smiled, his hair was still straightfully brushed, his face still clean and scarless. It seemed such a long time ago.

He carried that picture with him for some days now. He didn't really know he had saved it until today, but it was more than enough time already. He moved the paper next to a candle, and slowly let the fire consume its corner, watching the flames run all over his imprinted face.

While he was looking at his burning childhood picture, he remembered what Near had said before, _"I can't be 100% sure, but you shouldn't be killed by the notebook"_. That showed Near didn't yet know that the Japanese police oughta have Mello's name with them. If the Japanese police knew it, the chances Kira also knew his name were high up. And that made him wonder, at least for the forth time since the Mafia hideout had exploded, why he was still alive. If the Japanese guys were working together with Kira, as Mello knew they were, why hadn't they killed him yet? There had to be a good reason for that. A possible alignance with Mello was out of question; after all, he was the cause for both Takimura and Yagami's deaths, so they were certainly pretty angry at him. But anyways, Kira would be able to kill him without worry. Why hadn't he? Could it be just a mere question of timing that was keeping him alive? Maybe if Kira was the Second L, he couldn't kill Mello with the notebook since that would reveal his true identity. Or maybe not... maybe it was because he simply hadn't seen his face yet, only Yagami did. In either case, Kira was simply waiting for a good opportunity to kill him without being noticed. That had to be it.

...Or maybe no one else besides Yagami got to know his real name, maybe Kira wasn't the Second L, and both him and Near were betting on the wrong horse.

No. What were the odds both of them and L himself were wrong?

"Oi, Mello. Earth to Mello?" Matt gestured in front of the blond's face to gain his attention, awaking Mello from his thoughts. The red-head looked at the nearly-completely burned picture with a slight nostalgic look. "Sorry to break the moment, but what do we do now?"

Mello didn't reply and instead burried himself in his thoughts once more, but Matt didn't allow it to get there.

"Hey! Don't get that creepy look of yours when you think, it's scary."

"If you want to know what to do next, I need to think."

"Oh. Okay, fine, I'll just turn the other way around, then."

Matt spinned on his feet and jumped to the old couch of the abandoned clothing store they had broke into, pulling one of his portable consoles and starting to press its buttons rather harshly, until he sighed and threw it to his side, clearly out of batteries.

"Ugh, I want to finish that last nevel," he complained to no one.

Silence fell upon them, Matt chewing on his tongue wondering how to spend time and Mello trying to focus his mind on a single subject. Both of them quickly realized their personal tentatives were failing.

"Mello."

"What."

"You haven't been smiling lately," Matt noted, looking at the cremated paper on the floor as if the old smile could still be seen there.

Mello didn't reply to that. It was true though. That same sarcastic smile that used to identify him so well was gone, pretty much since his face and back got burned in that explosion and since he almost died. There just didn't seem to be reasons for smiling. He had grown up harshly after that day, and grew up with a broken pride and mind. More then he already had before.

Matt stared at Mello as if he tried to read his thoughts, but finally sighed when he couldn't.

"You ever noticed you're erasing your existence from the world?"

Mello lifted his eyes to the red-haired, as if he hadn't understood those words.

"Officially, there's no info about the boy you used to be when you had your real name, so its like he died all those years ago," Matt explained. "And as for Mello... it's already hard as it is to take information out of Wammy's, but deleting that info and any proof that you exist... its erasing yourself as if you have never been born."

Mello lowered his eyes once more, and again, he agreed with his friend's words.

"What good was I to the world in the first place, anyways?"

"We all leave our mark around, and we oughta do something good around all of them, don't you think?"

"In that case, I guess it's best I'm erasing all my marks, since I don't have any good one."

"You go along with that because you think that other people had to do the same?" Matt wondered. "Like L?"

"L isn't even officially dead," Mello recalled. "The reputation he gained after exiting Wammy's oughta have erased any trace of his previous life from his memory. That guy is immortal. The possible-Kira is replacing him, so it's as if nothing happened to the real L. And anyways, there's still that big-headed twit to truly succeed him."

"That's supposed to be Near, right?"

Mello didn't bother replying, and Matt sighed.

"You can always try to do something remarkable... you know, became famous for something. Well, L is L, but you still have others... like Linda; she's an artist now, isn't she?"

If he was still able to, he would have smiled when thinking about Linda. The only friends he had in Wammy's House were Matt and Linda. He realized he kinda missed her.

"What you reckon I'd be famous for? Blowing up things?"

"Dunno," Matt moved his shoulders to try to find a comfortable position. "You can always catch Kira and become famous for it."

"Yeah, I'm working on that, " Mello replied. Going against Kira was turning out to be a crime those days.

"What about the agent, then?"

Matt was really in a chatting mood. When his game batteries all died out, he had to do something else to spend his time. Sometimes it was really annyoing.

"What agent?"

"Hal. Halle Linder, or Bullook," Matt replied, moving his head in Mello's direction so he would see his expression.

"What does she have to do with anything?" As Mello knew Matt was trying to study his reaction, he controlled himself, though he shouldn't have any reasons to worry about. Then why was a slight heat appearing in his face?

"You know, I may be a game-freak, but I see romance in those, too."

That word made Mello choke on invisable food.

"What the hell are you talking about? Where did you got that idea from?"

"She likes you," Matt said, not worried one bit if he was bothering Mello with that talk. "Not even in games does a grown-up and hot woman allow a injured mafioso in her house and treats him up, and _specially_, allows the same teenager mafioso to be in her _bathroom_ while _she_ takes a shower. Not without caring about that guy, y'know?"

How Matt knew about that particular episode escaped Mello's grasp, but he didn't had the chance to wonder about that for long. The image of the naked Halle taking a bath while he waited beside her flashed through his mind, and he blushed slightly, not because of the blonde woman herself, but more because of how bold she was. Indeed Matt was right about Halle's actions towards him being strange if one considered a normal and phychologically healthy person. Any person within those criteria wouldn't have undressed herself and talking to him through the shower's curtain without any fear that he would do something to her. She was a capable agent, but still, something bad could have happened. Not that Mello was interested in anything like that, good or bad, anyways.

...He had to repeat those words to himself many times.

"Shut up."

"AND, that reaction of yours oughta be that of someone who cares as well."

Mello threw one of Matt's consoles at him, missing the boy's head by frustrating inches. He didn't even break the damn gadget.

"Shut the hell up," he ordered, trying to find something to do instead of hearing to Matt's game-like phylosophies. Still, his next words came out without his control. "People like me don't even have time to think about those things."

"Aha!!" Matt exclamed, lifting himself up with a stupid happy smile on his face. "You admit it, Mello... that's very nice of you... you're in love!"

"I was being polite with you, but now shut the fuck up!"

"You're in _looooove~~~_!" Matt began singing and ducked behind the couch before another heavy thing flyed above his head, though he was grinning widely.

Mello prepared to throw him anything else, but his strength failed him and the heavy object fell before it hit the protective couch. Matt was a too kind person. Too kind to be around him. Mello would only get him hurt, him, the only person that took the effort to put up with his mood swings and overall aggressiveness. Matt was kind enough to try to cheer him up with something that would at least make him give the smallest smile to himself, on that particular day when people were supposed to feel happy.

"Wooo, I'm gonna buy more cigarettes," Matt announced cheerfully, rushing towards the door and grinning to Mello. "I'll bring you a chocolate too, blond Romeo, don't worry."

Mello grabbed a new object from the floor and threatned to throw it, but Matt closed the door behind him before he had the chance to.

"Happy birthday, Mells."

----------

_January 25th, 2010 - 18:44_

Halle was feeling physically exhausted. Takada Kiyomi annoyed her a lot by some reason. Well, perhaps it wasn't so hard to find a reason; she was Kira's spokesperson. Did anyone need more of a real reason to be hated? Perhaps the best thing of working for her was to get the chance to go to home when she was dispatched and rest a little before she talked to Near through her computer.

She threw her handbag to the floor and switched on the light of her living room's lamp, tainting the division with a soft yellow tone. It always helped her relax. Today though, something else wouldn't allow her to relax as usual.

"It's been a while you showed up," she noted, looking at Mello with as much naturality as if he lived there and was expecting her at the end of a working day. He was sitting in the same couch he had been when he was reading all those reports so many weeks ago, facing her empty seat. Not only that, he was bended over his legs, with his head resting against his chest, his hair covering his face, and his hands lying motionless over his lap. Looking at him gave the impression he could have been sleeping or perhaps crying, and despite his face was totally dry, Halle seriously feared the latter when he raised his head to her.

Halle had noticed, ever since the day Mafia's hideout exploded, that Mello was different; but today, he was even _more_ different. Something in his eyes was off, like a burning candle that had been courageously fighting against a wild wind for a long time, and that now, had finally allow its flame to be conquered and perished.

Something inside Halle seemed to shudder.

What had happened?

"You're still guarding that Takada, right." It didn't sound like a question at all.

"Yes," Halle replied. "She's connected with Kira as you certainly know, so Near needs her moviments tracked."

Mello said nothing to that, and moved his eyes away from her, resting them on the floor again.

"Mello," her voice sounded a bit more worried than she would have liked it to, but she really felt like that. "What's wrong? Where have you been lately? You've barely..."

"Spying," Mello replied, cutting her half-way. "Spying people and thinking, and doing fucking nothing."

He hit the table that stood between the two seats, making it collide with the couch harshly.

Halle didn't actually flinch because of the sound, but because of the emotion the kick embodied. Frustration, anger, hatred, desperation. That wasn't like Mello at all.

And that scared her.

"What's wrong?"

Mello didn't reply, and when she tried to approach him, he lift himself up so fast that he nearly pushed her.

"I need you to tell me what the fuck is Near up to. Just stop telling me what he wants me to know."

"What?" Halle asked, preplexed. "Near doesn't..."

"He KNOWS you're helping me out," Mello said, showing too much of those emotions he was drowned in. "Of course he knows, he's a _genius_. He knows _exactly_ what to tell you and _exactly_ what you'll gonna tell me. He's fucking..." Mello shut his fist with enough strength to his hand to start shaking. "He's playing with me all along, using me all along the way he wants to. He's keeping things in the fucking dark lately, so something _is_ going on, something he _doesn't_ want me to even know of. You need to tell me what it is."

"Mello, if I knew, I would..."

"Don't throw sand at my eyes as well," Mello cut her word. "I don't even know which fucking side you're on, Hal. I don't know if you're just being used by Near or using me as well, I don't fucking know anything!"

Halle's voice left her for some moments as she watched Mello deviate his face away from her, and for a moment she seriously feared he was crying. His fist was still tightly shut and shaking with anger and, more than anything, frustration. She didn't even fully realize him calling her 'Hal'. When she finally thought she could speak again, he did it before she could.

"And as if it was enough, as if it wasn't time-consuming enough as it is, there's still this..." he tried, but he wasn't able to express everything he was feeling. Unlike Near, perhaps unlike L, Mello was full of emotion that no matter how much he tried to fight off, he simply couldn't. Normally it were negative and hostile feelings, but even those were merely a sheel to his real ones, the ones that choked him and haunted him.

"What? What is it?"

Halle felt like her heart had stopped when the distance between their lips was reduced to mere inches. And in truth, so did Mello's. That was why he didn't proceed. He tried to fight an inside battle with his mind to be able to move, but he lost. He even lost to himself.

She was a devoted woman to her causes. Maybe she didn't have a side, maybe she simply wanted to see Kira getting what he deserved no matter who brought him down. She was capable of helping both sides unlike anyone in the whole Kira case ever thought of. She was supposed to survive through that, see her work and efforts succeed, and then carry on with the happiest life she could built.

He was a criminal, a killer, a kidnapper, a black-mailer. He black-mailed the very President of the United States. He was doomed to suffer and to make people around him suffer ever since he was born. His real name was already known, so it was just like he had the death penalty over him at he deserved for his crimes; the execution date hadn't simply been marked yet due to slight circumstances.

...why would he drag Halle with him to Hell more than her work already threatned to?

"Call me when you get news from Near."

Before Halle could react, Mello had slammed the door behind him.

----------

_January 25th, 23:13_

"You should get some sleep."

"Nope, I have to finish this level first, remember? Last one."

"That game'll be in the same place tomorrow, you know."

"Since when do you worry about my sleeping?" Matt asked, peeking from the top his console. "And look who's talking; you sleep ten hours per week at best."

"Less than that," Mello corrected, removing his leg from the armrest of the couch and sitting in the right position.

"You have any ideas for tomorrow?" Matt asked before returning to his game and sunking himself a bit more on against the floor.

"Hal oughta call me tonight," the blond replied. "But anyways, our move has to be to that Takada Kiyomi. Near wouldn't sign Hal up to protect that woman if she wasn't important."

"She's Kira's spokesperson, so of course she's damn important," Matt recalled, furiously pressing the buttons of the console.

"I _know_ that, and I _know_ she's directly linked to Kira himself. Why does everybody think I don't know that?"

"Then you _do_ know that kidnapping Takada isn't the same as kidnapping a school girl, right? She has half a nation as bodyguards and the world's eyes on her."

"Kidnapping may be too rush. I need to get new info from Hal to decide. Whichever decision that may be, I need you to be awake and not falling over the wheel."

"Aye, aye, mother," Matt teased, and after a few more pressings and an apparently 'game over' in his game, he turned it off and jumped to the bigger couch. He just stripped his waistcoat, but he seemed as comfortable as if he was wearing silk pyjamas. "'night, then."

"'night."

Matt was just like a teenager (he was one, anyways); he might be always up and awake for things, but as soon as you put a bed on his reach, he'd seem like he hadn't slept for years. It didn't took more than ten minutes for him to fall asleep.

Mello stared at the dark corner of the room for a long time, trying to focus himself on something, but at the same time, wanting to keep his mind blank. He had to think, plan, make sure he and Matt would survive the next day, but he felt tired just of the idea. He just felt so tired and strangled. Maybe Matt was right, maybe he really had to sleep.

However, when he was thinking of curling himself on the improvised bed on the floor and try to get some deserved and needed sleep, something popped in his mind, and that was Halle. Damn it, was he really liking her? That was... unsual. And certainly not something that came in a good time; not when nothing seemed to happen, but he _knew_ something was up, and something big. That feeling was really incovinient. Feeling... love? It couldn't be love. At least, not _real_ love. When was the last time he loved someone, anyways? Perhaps he never loved anyone, so he doubted he could really love Halle. And that was such a _lame_ feeling, no matter how you looked at it.

Why did he had to have so many damn emotions in him, why couldn't he be more like Near sometimes? At least the damn twit didn't have to worry about feelings if he didn't even have them.

He reached for something laying on top of a nearby table, a brand new chocolate bar he opened as soundlessly as possible and lifted to his lips, but before completing the moviment he had done so many times, he gave up and lowered it again.

Perhaps he was getting suicidal. Perhaps he was giving up. After all, things weren't really easy or bright to his side. He didn't have any back-ups like Near, so he was pretty much alone. The Mafia were just means to get to his goals. There was Matt... Matt was a kid, a kid with a brilliant mind that was stuck in something he couldn't even fully understand. His life was on the line because of Mello, and he didn't seemed to notice that. Though Matt could be considered and was a back-up, having to bear the responsability if someone like him died would be a burden Mello couldn't handle. And Halle... Halle was that kind of person you can't be sure of what she's thinking, nor in which side she really is. Not to mention that something in her made him feel those strange feelings. Hell, he tried to kiss her earlier. That oughta mean something he wasn't used to.

Why was he in that mess again? Because L got killed by the guy he had vowed to capture. Because Mello wanted to proove himself over L and capture Kira whom the greatest detective in the world failed to. Because he wanted to surpass Near for once. Because Kira was a mass-murder with a god-complex. Those were enough reasons, one would think.

But by some reason, he just felt so tired of all that. And he just wanted it to be all over.

He wasn't anywhere near L's mind. And he knew the same applied to Near. They were all logically-minded, they barely had feelings in them, specially Near. He really _was_ second to those guys in more than one sense. If L couldn't catch Kira, having that mind of his, and if Near kept going in circles around Kira, how the hell would Mello be able to surpass both of them? It seemed pretty impossible as far as he could see it, finally in a moment of self-consciousness. What the hell was he supposed to do?

Mello felt like he snapped.

Damn, that was _so_ out of character. Didn't matter what he was supposed to do, he wasn't suppose to give up. If people had given up on him, the only thing he should do was to keep fighting and show them they were wrong. But it was a lot harder than it sounded. A lot of people tried to shot him dead several times, and although he had survive those, they left him scares to remind him things could be totally out of his control. Unconsciouly, he touched the left side of his face, feeling the burnt skin through his gloved fingers. That thing still burned. He was the one carrying more scares around the anti-Kira section.

Hm, well, not really, he admitted. After all, a lot of people died, including L. Was he supposed to be in the deceased person list too? Death was becoming a familiar idea to him, and he couldn't decide if he was scared of it or not. Damn it, he _was_ getting suicidal.

A beep interrupted his thoughts, and he reached for his phone. It was Hal; no one else called to his phone at that hour besides Hal or Matt.

"Any news?"

_"Some,"_ Halle's voice never really sounded like that, but this time it was almost soft to his ears._ "Near said he 'would bring things to a conclusion directly'."_

There. There it was, the quote that seemed to sum up every fucking thought of his.

Mello layed foward in the chair, making his blond hair cover his face just like it had while in Halle's place, in an image that seemed like he was very tired, or as if he was crying. For the second of third time that day, although he wasn't crying, he just felt like it. Because of all those previous thoughts being proved to have a very clear reason. End. The end to all that was arriving soon. That would be a comfortable feeling if he didn't know that something wasn't right in the 'good end'. Or rather, _he_ wasn't right in it. He felt like - and knew - he was just another player in that game, a player behind his adversaries, and he had been cursed earlier not to arrive at the finish line

Before he really noticed he had moved, his hand was closed around something near his chest, and he released it was his rosary.

_Damn__._

"He's going to make him write your names in the notebook directly..."

_"Yeah."_

A long silence from both sides of the line took place. Halle felt a bit anxious with such dead silence, since she sensed something wrong in Mello's voice the moment they started talking. Not only then, when they met earlier... The memories of that encounter made her want to break the soundless moment and question Mello about it.

_"Mello..."_

There was nothing else to say. Some decisions were simply taken in mere seconds and many people simply couldn't understand them.

"I'm the only one who can do it."

**- End of Chapter 8 -**

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_Author's Notes:_ You decide if Halle was being honest with Mello regarding her dead fiancé or not.

About Mello's smile-less part, in the manga he does smile once or twice after the explosition, but in the anime, he simply doesn't smile again. I think it's very sad, and I wanted to point that out.

As for the kissing scene, I would love to have a real romantic deal or sorts with Halle and Mello, but I don't think they would ever be able to actually 'make it official'. Or maybe it's just me who can't write romance properly. I still think it's clear that there's something else in their relation.

I hope you all caught the line about Matt's last-nevel game. He's not gonna finish it.

We're arriving at an end, minna-san (yay, this crappy thing is finally coming to its death). Reviews are always very welcomed and excuse the typos/grammar mistakes.

Tick-tock.


	9. Kira

**CHAPTER 9:**

**KIRA**

_Author's Note:_ The last chapter of this Mello's Life fic, and literally the last chapter of Mello's *real* life. Starts after the phone call to Halle, and goes to Mello's death scene that I so wished it appeared in the manga or anime or director's cut or anywhere. This is the manga version, meaning the kidnap happens during the day and not during the night like in the anime.

Believe it or not, I made the end of this chapter and the epilogue by the same time I wrote the first chapter. So all this time I've been making the middle thing.

I uploaded this at 7:40AM. I'm gonna follow the time through the day.

Let's get going.

Tick-tock.

EDIT: Corrected typos and grammar mistakes. I am honestly sickened everytime I see how many of them there are.

**DISCLAIMER: **I, HoshisamaValmor, don't own Death Note. I think I still do own my imagination and a similar personality to Mello's though, and that you can't claim.

* * *

_"Pray for me_

_If you want to_

_Pray for me_

_If you care_

_Pray for me_

_If you want to_

_Pray for me, you fucker_

_If you fucking dare."_

_~Emilie Autumn, "Misery Loves Company"_

_

* * *

_

_January 26th, 2010 - Morning_

Screw it. Why would he always have to lose and be second place?

"Mello."

"Yeah."

"I thought you said kidnapping might be a little too rush."

"I changed my mind."

"Okay, you're the boss."

Mello had told Matt earlier everything he was planning to do. Smokescreen, pretending to be helping Takada escaping, and then to the kidnap itself. Matt would be fine, he just had to run for it before the woman's bodyguards got to him, and so would have Mello.

Simple and easy. Things wouldn't go wrong, at least for Matt's side. As for him, he would be able to manage the stupid Kira-addicted woman on his own if needed. Unconsciously, he re-checked the handcuff on his wrist and the other extreme ready to arrest someone else.

Time seemed to go by excruciatingly slow, but when he noticed, it was already time to start moving. Time did have that effect when it wanted. The quick illusion of giving you more minutes to plan and live, when the only thing it did was to consume them infinitely.

"Matt, it's time," the blond informed through the cellphone to his partner. He hated to miss his schedules, so he quickly removed his hood and covered his face with his helmet instead.

"Nice. Finally something fun to do."

Matt was such a child, he had to think. He could die that very day, but he wasn't really worried about that. Mello found himself wishing again Matt would be fine after that, hoping he'd make through it, but then snapped those thoughts away. He had got enough suicidal thoughts last night, he didn't need new ones today. That was a lame thing to be thinking about. Trying to control his thoughts was what stopped him from saying something more to Matt, something else, anything else, whatever it might be, and turned those forsaken words unspoken for more time than both of them had consciousness of.

* * *

There was a mess in front of the NHN building. The smoke bomb was working as good as planned, and the bodyguards kept shouting at each other for "Takada-sama". _Ugh_. He turned on his bike and approached the entrance of the building where everyone's first thought of safety would be. And as planned, the person who would stay by Takada's side even if under attack would be her most close bodyguard, Halle.

So far, so good.

"Takada-sama, get inside the NHN, quickly!" someone screamed, and Halle pulled Takada with her.

"No, we've just been attacked," he interrupted, and caught Halle's attention. "It's too risky for you to stay inside or around the NHN. You should leave here. Takada-sama, please hop on."

'_Takada-sama_'? Wow, he was a great actor, he couldn't stop himself from thinking_. Do your part well until the right moment..._

"Hurry!"

He saw Halle's surprised face for his appearance, but whatever she might have been thinking about it, she didn't do any reluctant action at his 'help'.

"Takada-sama, it's alright," she assured the Japanese woman. "Please get on and leave here fast."

Takada did exactly as she was told without any protest. She sat behind Mello and held him tightly as a child would do to prevent themselves from falling from someone's lap. Mello didn't say anything else and automatically took off, hearing Halle's start giving some orders to the rest of the bodyguards.

He kept driving straight through the freeway until at least two black cars of Takada's bodyguards approached them. He was supposed to escort her to the car number 7. That worked as his cue.

Less than 100 meters ahead was a narrow alley he had studied yesterday. Perfect for the escape, and so, he made a rush turn to it, making the bodyguards yell in shock as they realized what was going on. These guys were slow... They pulled their guns, obviously, but they wouldn't shoot when they could accidently hit their wanna-be-goddess.

"Y-You are...?" Takada stammered behind him when he firmly shut the handcuff around her wrist, preventing her from escaping.

Why such a rushed kidnap? Because he wouldn't be able to get ahead of Near if he didn't intervene in his plans. And of Kira's at the same time, since the woman was directly connected to him. It was a suicidal endeavor in more than one sense, he was very conscious of that; but he was gonna die one way or another, wasn't he. At least he wouldn't die cowering in a corner, he would prove once again to both Near and Kira that he was able to outsmart them on his own.

Not that he wanted to die. He wasn't a martyr, he wasn't suicidal. Part of his genius mind simply made it very clear that the odds of him surviving until the Kira case was over weren't nearly as high as the ones recommended for a person to just think of walking out of their beds. That did not stop him from experiencing the feeling of emptiness just for the thought of death: something like, what was he supposed to do if he died? Nothing, precisely, because he was dead. It was strange to explain. But something like that, perhaps.

Takada actually remained silent the whole way they drove to the interior parking lot where Mello had the truck they would use to escape. As soon as he entered the back side with the motorcycle and parked it, he went for the key of the handcuffs and released both of them. As if driven by instinct, Takada ran to the other side of the truck, cowering herself in the corner. Mello did nothing to stop her from doing that.

He removed his helmet, and he saw the woman stare at him in a mix of fear and perhaps sickness. He wasn't in the mood to have some stupid fanatic stare at him like he was a circus freak with a burn scar on his face.

"Take everything you're wearing and put it in that box," despite his annoyance, he was kind enough to speak Japanese and make sure the communication would be clear to both sides.

"So you're basically telling me to get naked right here?" Takada asked, disbelievingly.

"That's right," Mello replied plainly, to the woman's progressive shock. "I'm sure you carry a tracking device so your bodyguards can find you wherever you are. They're going to come after me if I don't get rid of that. This delivery company has a shipping office close by, so I'll toss the box there."

Takada fell silent, and it pushed Mello's impatience, so he pulled his gun and aimed it at her.

"Snap to it, woman," still in a kindness mood, he did think of something to keep the littlest of her privacy and pulled the white sheet from inside a box near him. He figured seeing any woman naked now would only remind him of Halle, and he had to keep himself focused on the things he was doing. "I'll give you a blanket."

"A-Alright," she nodded, and turned her back to him. "F-First, I'm handing over my cellphone and handbag... that way I won't be able to contact anyone. S-So... can I at least have that blanket around me before I take off my underwear..."

_Ugh, women._

"Fine. Just hurry up!"

Takada started to take her clothes off, and though Mello wanted to ensure she wouldn't keep anything with her, he didn't want to waste too much time in the same place with the threat of being tailed by her bodyguards, so he changed to the working uniform of the delivery company he had stolen while Takada finished undressing. Too much loosen cloth for him - he used leather for a reason, it made him feel comfortable despite what people usually said about leather - but it was just for some minutes anyway.

"Alright, this should be fine," he said after Takada had fully undressed herself. He picked the box with her clothes and placed a basic cap to protect his face. "You're going to have to stay in here for a while. And I don't want to hear a peep, got it?"

Takada didn't reply, but he wasn't expecting one either. He locked the door behind him and went to the driver seat, placing the box with her clothes beside him.

The shipping office was near, but it still took them nearly 10 minutes to arrive there. As soon as he parked, Mello jumped out of the truck and deposited the box on top of other cargo containers. As he returned to the truck, he noticed the sky was rather dark for a morning time; but whatever, what a random remark.

As soon as he was back in the truck, he quickly changed back to his leather attire and lied against the seat for some moments to catch his breath by some reason. He was feeling tired, he realized, but he wasn't supposed to; he even slept two hours.

Snap out of it. His mind was drifting more than it should. Focus. When one is kidnapping someone, putting his own life and of others at stake, one shouldn't be tired unless he was suicidal. Focus, and start driving.

Nearly one hour went by until they past the tablet indicating 'To Nagano' when Mello realized there was a small available TV next to the wheel. Maybe he should check on how things were officially being taken care of in terms of Takada. There were more lives at stake than just the Japanese woman's. He wanted to check if Matt had escaped from the bodyguards.

As expected, the news were all about Takada's kidnapping. Nothing too interesting about it. Just regular comments of shock and panic and the like about the situation. It took a while to a broadcast to catch his attention. It showed a familiar bright red car, but its windows were smashed, and several bullet holes were covering it.

His stomach twisted.

_"We are yet to know the identity of the man shot dead..."_, the low voice of the announcer said.

Oh no. No.

Dammit.

_Matt, I didn't think they'd kill you... I'm so sorry..._

Damn it. Now things were _not_ going a good way. Those fucking bodyguards oughta have shot him without a reason. Matt was harmless... and he died because of him... _damn it_.

He stopped the truck abruptly, and he heard the stupid woman whimper and protest on the back as she probably stumbled against the metal wall.

"What's wrong? Where are we?"

"Shut the fuck up!"

He wanted to kill someone. Maybe he should go and threatened her life out of information right there, as he always did and as he was planning to do later. And then kill her after she gave him the info.

But now Matt was dead because of him, and because of the people that Takada had hired. People she had hired because she was connected with Kira. He really wanted to see some blood around. She was a bitch anyways.

He took his gun out and closed his hand around it so firmly that his arm started shaking. After a moment of mental war between killing that woman or proceeding with his original plan, he finally sighed and lowered the gun again, hiding his face behind his hand and trying to control himself. Damn emotions, why couldn't he be like Near sometimes? That albino probably wouldn't make a single move without previous and careful thinking, even if his agents were killed. Well, his agents HAD been killed, and he HADN'T reacted as a normal person would, had he? That lack of emotion of his allowed him to keep planning under all circumstances, and Mello lacked that type of planning. So he oughta calm himself down, he couldn't panic nor act on pure and aggressive instinct.

He wasn't supposed to feel. Wasn't that always separated him from them? Neither L nor Near felt, cared if a person could die or not. But he did, and that person _died_. It was the third time he had to watch and feel the death of people he cared about, after his parents and L himself, but it was the first time someone died _because_ of him. For some moments, he felt terribly lost.

That feeling of tiredness hit him again, and he realized it wasn't physical tiredness, but the same style he felt in the past days; mental tiredness. Exhaustion.

Damn, things were crushing down.

After a few more deep breathings, Mello grabbed the wheel again and restarted driving, unknowing Takada now hold a piece of paper and a pencil in her hands.

The old abandoned church was as desert as an abandoned building was supposed to be. He had learned about it some time ago, actually when he was still in the Mafia, but he never imagined any use to it before. Now, it came in handy.

He parked the truck inside the decaying and collapsing walls of the building. There was such a quiet and peaceful silence that for a moment he just sit there, with the engine turned off, listening to the quietness. There was no sound coming from the back of the truck either. A perfect and beautiful silence he didn't listen to as regularly as he actually wished.

But he knew the situation wasn't one where he was supposed to be listening to the silence. He had to focus.

He casually looked to the old wooden cross at the end of the abandoned church's hall, where the image of Jesus crucified was portrayed. By some reason, he felt like praying, but he snapped that feeling away. That wasn't the time nor the context to pray. He had other things to do, and he had done things, that no God or saint could help or atone afterwards. He couldn't start thinking about forgiveness, otherwise Matt would pop into his mind and only slow him off even more. Perhaps he would finally pray after so many years some other occasion, when his mind wasn't filled with that bitterness and anger.

_Focus_, dammit...

And then, something happened, something he wasn't expecting.

It was like a sudden explosion in his chest, so fast and so sudden that he froze. He didn't feel any pain for a second, only shock, while he understood what was happening to him. But the next second, the worst pain Mello ever remembered experiencing before hit his heart, forcing him to lay forward with a painful grunt, his hand holding his chest, as if it could make the pain disappear. He knew it was pointless, though.

Amazingly, through all that pain, he sensed his rosary, compressed between his hand and his chest. The dangling silver cross was the only thing his eyes could see, as every other part of his body was focused in the pain. Damn, it hurt so much, it was taking his breath away. But how...?

Everything started to make sense fast in his mind, though. Kira was _really_ infiltrated in the Japanese police, so that had to mean he was the Second L, like Near suspected. And the Second L was Yagami's son, Yagami Light. The same guy that killed the real L, to sum it up. He must've heard his name when Yagami said it out loud that day. But why wait over 2 months to kill him? The matter of timing he once thought about, maybe, but... no, Kira didn't know his face, that was it... that had been it the whole time. So did the woman...? He didn't see any note in her clothes, and she was naked anyway... How...

The pain in his chest made him gasp, but part of him knew he couldn't fight it much longer. A sudden panic took hold of him as he tried to breathe, yet no air entered his lungs.

It might have been a lame and somewhat cliché idea, but he did see his life flash in front of his eyes. Or rather, his life's remaining and incomplete objectives that he now wouldn't be able to concretize, thanks to some maniac killer. Was he really going to die? Why? Why now, why there, why like that? Why was he going to die while others profited from his death, why was he going to die without being able to see that his efforts had not been in vain? Dying would make everything he did and fought for throughout his life to have been in vain, since no one would remember or continue what he had started. Damn it, he was going to die in vain? What about Halle? What about Matt, L? Why? Why was he...

Mello never thought Death could come so fast. It didn't last more than 10 seconds, and yet, they were the most surreal 10 seconds of his life. Stunned by that deep pain, the only sound he could hear was his fast suffocated breathing, and in the very next moment when the sound was turning into a background one, it had stopped. His hand fell from his chest to his side, and though his eyes remained wide open, with shock engraved in them, he couldn't see anything any longer. He was already dead when his head fell over the wheel of the truck, blond hair covering his scarred face.

His crucifix, however, still dangled silently in mid-air for a long time, until its movement finally died as its owner.

Takada broke the small glass that separated her from the front seats, cutting herself in the process, and reached for his phone without even looking at him. She made a crying call to Kira, Yagami Light, while she firmly grabbed the piece of the Death Note written with the name 'Mihael Keehl'. She also called the other Kira, Mikami Teru, and then, while she was eagerly waiting for rescue, both of them betrayed her.

Some time later, the motorcycle was caught on fire, and the inferno heat soon reached everything else in the abandoned church, burning both of them beyond recognition with flames that went up to the top cross of the ruins.

**- End of Chapter 9 -**

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_Author's Note:_ Not over yet. Check the small Epilogue please, it will be uploaded on the fated day of January 28th.

Reviews are always very welcomed, especially in this chapter. I will make a video today for Mello, check it on my youtube account if you want to.

~RIP~


	10. Epilogue

**DISCLAIMER:** I, HoshisamaValmor, don't own Death Note and never will. Do own a similiar personality to Mello's in more than one way.

* * *

**~EPILOGUE~**

Halle was still in shock. She always feared Mello would do crazy things, and that those crazy things might get himself killed, but not like that, not right then. Not after that strange phone call. It was still a shock, and it was well printed in her mind, as it would be for a very long time indeed.

Knowing that she had failed as a SPK member to allow an 'enemy' to kidnap an important suspect under surveillance, when hard preparations for a final showdown with Kira were being made. Knowing that she had failed as a person not to decide correctly and specify which side she was on to two twisted children that were sickling competing with one another for the 1st place.

And then, she arrived at the place where Mello ought to be with Takada, not really knowing if she was there to help, to apprehend or to kill him. And then... firemen cars, police cars, a scenario with blazing flames going up to the metal cross on the top of the church's ruins. A truck's form could still be seen inside the abandoned house of God now turned into Hell, and that made clear that there couldn't be any possible survivor from that Hell. And she was sure, they all were, that Takada Kiyomi... and Mello were in there.

She was to return to the SPK headquarters, and she had to apoligize to Near for not preventing Mello from doing what he did, though she wasn't sure if she was regretting it because it was a bad action as an agent, or because that mistake cost the life of a recently-turned 20 years old man.

"It's okay," Near's voice said through her computer, and she had to be surprised with that. "The problem is solved. Everything will be fine as long as Yagami Light goes through our meeting as planned."

_The problem is solved?_ Halle feared she wouldn't be able to control herself from shouting. Mello had died... he had just died, she didn't even know if he was killed in that infernal fire or by Kira or by any other mean, but he was dead, and Near didn't show any feeling regarding that! They might have not been anything other but rivals, but they grew up together... anything... the slightest feeling...? Matt had died too. Couldn't Near bother a little about that?

It was both a fortune and a torture that Rester searched for the autopsies of the bodies found in the fire place, at the same time they were all over the TV. Takada Kiyomi, all-mighty Takada-sama, had dramatically perished as an outcome of her kidnapping. She was made a tragic victim, while her kidnappers weren't given the leastest care about. They even said that the other body found at the scene was "badly burned, and though assumed to be that of the kidnapper, is still currently unidentified". It was almost too painful to imagine how a so-badly burned corpse could have been, weeks ago, the same arrogant and annoying kid that appeared at her house and threatned her... the same _boy_ that made her feel attached to. Two children had died, had been killed, and all they cared about was a stupid petulant woman who was in favor of a killer.

_Their_ killer.

"They're telling the truth," Gevanni confirmed, pausing his coping work and checking the autopsies reports as they heared the news. "They had a lot of troubles to even identify Takada's body. That fire sure was something..."

"But the other is... certainly Mello, right?" Rester was somehow more sensible to that subject, like Halle, unlike Gevanni and certainly unlike Near.

"Due to the circumnstances... it ought to be him," Gevanni said, returning to his accurate job.

"Did they find anything that showed any signs of his identity?" Halle asked, unable to control herself, though she was happy that her question sounded as worrying about any possible link to the SPK leader (unlikely one, though), and not to keep a small light of hope inside her that that wasn't Mello's body found there.

"Let's see..." Rester looked through the pages that he carried, and found what he was looking for. He read it out loud: "_'The second body was found at the front seat...'_, hm... Here it is: _'Something ressembling a cruficix was found in the body's neck, though it was very damaged as well.'_ Is this a sign of him?"

Halle didn't know how she hadn't fall to her knees hearing that. Crucifix... Mello's rosary... the same one he once told her that was a gift from his mother, just the other day... and yet, it had been two months since that talk.

"I presume the cause of death couldn't be specified?" Near asked, and his intervation at that moment surprised Halle slightly, still caring the same emotionless tone as ever.

"The most obvious one would be 'burned to death', but they can't be sure for the time being. And the fire destroyed any possible evidence in the scene or on the bodies."

"It was a heart attack," Near concluded as if he was repeating something that Rester had just said, curling one of his hairs. "I don't think you can drag other people to death with you when using the notebook, but even if you can, I think that..."

"Is it painful?"

Halle was starting to hate herself for not being able to control properly in presence of the others. But she found that it was a lot more harder than she thought.

Although both Rester and Gevanni looked at her, neither of them answered.

"The problem I didn't know that existed is now solved," Near said, apparently not minding her interruption at all. His voice seemed very far away in Halle's mind. "We've been tricked by Kira all along with X-Kira. I really have to say this... Mello saved us."

This time, the remaining members of the SPK had to look surprise to their leader.

"We would die at January 28th if this hadn't happen..." the child, only two years younger than Mello, explained. "I might have wanted to stop that kidnapping before, since I couldn't possibly know it back then, but it saved us, and the Japanese investigators as well. Kira will now definately be defeated, and we won't die as he planned."

"You mean... Mello's death allowed us to live?"

"Something like that. Please, Gevanni, finish that copy as soon as possible."

Somehow, Halle didn't know if that was recomforting for giving Mello's death a meaning, or horrible for sounding like he had been used as a tool he said he wouldn't be.

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Still, the credits that Near gave to Mello when they faced that other kid, Yagami Light (what the hell was wrong with young people these days, anyway?!), Kira, killer of criminals and of innocent as the real L and Mello and Matt, made it sound like a recomforting feeling, even if it was still sad. Death was sad.

Mello knew he would die when he made that phone call to her. He might have not known how or when, but he knew he would, soon, in the end.

It was like playing a game you've waited for throughout your life and that you want to win with all your heart, yet you know the only way it can be beaten is by sacrifing yourself to open the final path, so the ones next to you can finally defeat the final boss.

And that was very sad.

**----- THE END ~ OWARI -----**

* * *

**Author's Final Note:** Isn't it sad to see that 'The End ~ Owari'? I find it most sad, not regarding the fic itself, but regarding Mello's life. And life in general. It's a shame. And its really very sad. Those last lines are my very personal feelings about death, in a comparation that I find clear (hopefully not unadequated - since Mello VS/& Near VS Kira was supposed to be a game in their minds). It's so very sad. I wish I could die young, though. There's no good future here.

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So people, it's over. Mello, Death Note in a way. Light died today, actually around the time I posted this, 14:20 / 2:20PM. God is dead.

Thanks for your time, reviews, favs, alerts.

See ya around ~ Ja ne

~Hoshi-sama Valmor


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